"  She  blushed  scarlet,  took  the  rosebud  from  her  bosom 
and  pinned  it  on  his  coat." 

[Page  246] 


THE  SINS  OF 
THE  FATHER 

A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  SOUTH 

BY 

THOMAS  DIXON 

AUTHOR  OF 

THE  LEOPARD'S  SPOTS,  THE  CLANSMAN, 
COMRADES,   THE   ROOT  OF   EVIL,   ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

JOHN  CASSEL 


GROSSET   &   DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS  ::        ::  NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1912,  BY 
THOMAS   DIXON 

All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of  translation  into 
foreign  languages,  including  the  Scandinavian. 


Published  March,  I'M*. ;/  J  V;  "£.*%  I 


Printed  in  th   United  States  of  America. 


TO 
THE  MEMORY  OF 

RANDOLPH    SHOTWELL 

OF  NORTH  CAROLINA 

SOLDIER,  EDITOR,  CLANSMAN 

PATRIOT 


91S7S5 


TO   THE  READER 

I  wish  it  understood  that  I  have  not  used  in 
this  novel  the  private  life  of  Captain  Randolph 
Shotwell,  to  whom  this  book  is  dedicated.  I 
have  drawn  the  character  of  my  central  figure 
from  the  authentic  personal  history  of  Major 
Daniel  Norton  himself,  a  distinguished  citizen 
of  the  far  South,  with  whom  I  was  intimately 
acquainted  for  many  years. 


THOMAS  DIXON. 


NEW  YORK 
MARCH  8.  1012 


CONTENTS 

BOOK  I— SIN 

CHAFTEB  *AGK 

I.  THE  WOMAN  IN  YELLOW   .         .,  .,  ,».  3 

II.  CLEO  ENTERS    .         .         .         •  •  r  2G 

III.  A  BEAST  AWAKES      ....      .         .  .  ...'  39 

IV.  THE  ARREST      .         .         .„        .  .'  .  46 
V.  THE  RESCUE    •'...,     .         •         «  -  •  58 

VI.  A  TRAITOR'S  RUSE     .         .  *      .  .  ..  71 

VII.  THE  IRONY  OF  FATE  .         .         .  .  1  78 

VIII.  A  NEW  WEAPON        .         .         .  .  .  85 

IX.  THE  WORDS  THAT  COST  ,  .  *,  ,;  *  93 

X.  MAN  TO  MAN  .  .  .  .  *  ..  98 

XI.  THE  UNBIDDEN  GUEST     ,,         .  ,f  •  . ^  109 

XII.  THE  JUDGMENT  BAR  .         .         »  ,   .  .  116 

XIII.  AN  OLD  STORY  .         .         .      .   r  ';  r  [Tjj  13° 

XIV.  THE  FIGHT  FOR  LIFE         f         „  .  ;T  139 

XV.  CLEO'S    SILENCE         ,         ...  '  ,  ,.  1^2 

XVI.  THE  LARGER  VISION  .         ,      .. .  ,n  ,.  ^  .  145 

XVII.  THE  OPAL  GATES       t         *     .   ^  *  >-  158 

XVIII.  QUESTIONS           .         .         ^,:i,I  .  ^  163 

XIX.  CLEO'S  CRY         .         .         .         .^  ^  ,  T  171 

XX.  THE  BLOW  FALLS  n.  . .'.  '  9. ....',  ..f  ^v?  •  !74 

XXI.  THE  CALL  OF  THE  BLOOD  .  .  «*  .182 

BOOK  II— ATONEMENT 

I.  THE  NEW  LIFE  PURPOSE  ....  195 

II.  A  MODERN  SCALAWAG         .         .  ,  •  .  199 
ix 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

III.  His   HOUSE  IN   ORDER 

IV.  THE  MAN  OF  THE  HOUR 
V.  A  WOMAN  SCORNED  . 

VI.  AN  OLD  COMEDY 
VII.  TRAPPED    .         . 
VIII.  BEHIND  THE  BARS     . 
IX.  ANDY'S  DILEMMA 
X.  THE  BEST  LAID  PLANS 
XI.  A  RECONNOITRE 
XII.   THE  FIRST  WHISPER  . 
XIII.  ANDY'S  PROPOSAL 
XIV.  THE   FOLLY  OF   PITY 

XV.  A  DISCOVERY     . 
XVI.  THE   CHALLENGE 
XVII.  A  SKIRMISH       . 
XVIII.  LOVE   LAUGHS    . 
XIX.  "FIGHT  IT  OUT!"       . 

XX.  ANDY  FIGHTS     . 
XXI.  THE  SECOND  BLOW  . 
XXII.  THE  TEST  OF  LOVE  . 

XXIII.  THE   PARTING   . 

XXIV.  FATHER  AND  SON 
XXV.  THE  ONE  CHANCE     . 

XXVI.  BETWEEN  Two  FIRES. 
XXVII.  A  SURPRISE 
XXVIII.  VIA  DOLOROSA  . 

XXIX.  THE  DREGS  IN  THE  CUP 

XXX.  THE  MILLS  OF  GOD  . 
XXXI.  SIN  FULL  GROWN      . 
XXXII.  CONFESSION         .         . 
XXXIII.  HEALING    . 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

•Book  flDne— %fn 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   WOMAN    IN    YELLOW 

THE  young  editor  of  The  Daily  Eagle  and  Phoenix 
straightened  his  tall  figure  from  the  pile  of  papers  that 
smothered  his  desk,  glanced  at  his  foreman  who  stood 
waiting,  and  spoke  in  the  quiet  drawl  he  always  used 
when  excited: 

"Just  a  moment — 'til  I  read  this  over " 

The  foreman  nodded. 

He  scanned  the  scrawled  pencil  manuscript  twice  and 
handed  it  up  without  changing  a  letter : 

"Set  the  title  in  heavy  black-faced  caps — black — the 
blackest  you've  got." 

He  read  the  title  over  again  musingly,  his  strong 
mouth  closing  with  a  snap  at  its  finish: 

THE  BLACK  LEAGUE  AND  THE  KU  KLUX  KLAN 
DOWN    WITH    ALL    SECRET    SOCIETIES 

The  foreman  took  the  manuscript  with  a  laugh : 

"You've  certainly  got  'em  guessing,  major " 

"Who?" 

"Everybody.  We've  all  been  thinking  until  these 
editorials  began  that  you  were  a  leader  of  the  Klan." 

3 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

A  smile  played  about  the  corners  of  the  deep-set 
brown  eyes  as  he  swung  carelessly  back  to  his  desk 
and  waved  the  printer  to  his  task  with  a  friendly  sweep 
of  his  long  arm: 

"Let 'em  think  again!" 

A  shout  in  the  Court  House  Square  across  the  nar 
row  street  caused  him  to  lift  his  head  with  a  frown : 

"Salesday — of  course — the  first  Monday — doomsday 
for  the  conquered  South — God,  the  horror  of  it  all!" 

He  laid  his  pencil  down,  walked  to  the  window  and 
looked  out  on  the  crowd  of  slouching  loafers  as  they 
gathered  around  the  auctioneer's  block.  The  negroes 
outnumbered  the  whites  two  to  one. 

A  greasy,  loud-mouthed  negro,  as  black  as  ink,  was 
the  auctioneer. 

"Well,  gemmen  an'  feller  citizens,"  he  began  pomp 
ously,  "de  fust  piece  er  property  I  got  ter  sell  hain't 
no  property  'tall — hit's  dese  po'  folks  fum  de  County 
Po'  House.  Fetch  'em  up  agin  de  wall  so  de  bidders 
can  see  'em " 

He  paused  and  a  black  court  attendant  led  out  and 
placed  in  line  against  the  weatherbeaten  walls  fifty  or 
sixty  inmates  of  the  County  Poor  House — all  of  them 
white  men  and  women.  Most  of  them  were  over  seventy 
years  old,  and  one  with  the  quickest  step  and  brightest 
eye,  a  little  man  of  eighty-four  with  snow-white  hair 
and  beard,  was  the  son  of  a  hero  of  the  American  Revo 
lution.  *l?he  women  were  bareheaded  and  the  blazing 
Southern  sun  of  August  beat  down  piteously  on  their 
pinched  faces. 

The  young  editor's  fists  slowly  clinched  and  his 
breath  came  in  a  deep  quivering  draught.  He  watched 
as  in  a  trance.  He  had  seen  four  years'  service  in  the 

4 


THE   WOMAN  IN   YELLOW 

bloodiest  war  in  history — seen  thousands  swept  into 
eternity  from  a  single  battlefield  without  a  tear.  He 
had  witnessed  the  sufferings  of  the  wounded  and  dying 
until  it  became  the  routine  of  a  day's  work.  Yet  no 
event  of  all  that  fierce  and  terrible  struggle  had  stirred 
his  soul  as  the  scene  he  was  now  witnessing — not  even 
the  tragic  end  of  his  father,  the  editor  of  the  Daily 
Eagle — who  had  been  burned  to  death  in  the  building 
when  Sherman's  army  swept  the  land  with  fire  and 
sword.  The  younger  man  had  never  referred  to  this 
except  in  a  brief,  hopeful  editorial  in  the  newly  chris 
tened  Eagle  and  Phoenix,  which  he  literally  built  on 
the  ashes  of  the  old  paper.  He  had  no  unkind  word 
for  General  Sherman  or  his  army.  It  was  war,  and  a 
soldier  knew  what  that  meant.  He  would  have  done 
the  same  thing  under  similar  conditions. 

Now  he  was  brushing  a  tear  from  his  cheek.  A  re 
porter  at  work  in  the  adjoining  room  watched  him 
curiously.  He  had  never  before  thought  him  capable 
of  such  an  emotion.  A  brilliant  and  powerful  editor, 
he  had  made  his  paper  the  one  authoritative  organ  of 
the  white  race.  In  the  midst  of  riot,  revolution  and 
counter  revolution  his  voice  had  the  clear  ring  of  a 
bugle  call  to  battle.  There  was  never  a  note  of  hesita 
tion,  of  uncertainty  or  of  compromise.  In  the  fierce 
white  heat  of  an  unconquered  spirit,  he  had  fused  the 
souls  of  his  people  as  one.  At  this  moment  he  was  the 
one  man  hated  and  feared  most  by  the  negroid  govern*- 
ment  in  power,  the  one  man  most  admired  and  trusted  by 
the  white  race. 

And  he  was  young — very  young — yet  he  had  lived 
a  life  so  packed  with  tragic  events  no  one  ever  guessed 
his  real  age,  twenty-four.  People  took  him  to  be  more 

5 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

than  thirty  and  the  few  threads  of  gray  about  his 
temples,  added  to  the  impression  of  age  and  dignity. 
He  was  not  handsome  in  the  conventional  sense.  His 
figure  was  too  tall,  his  cheek  bones  too  high,  the  nos 
trils  too  large  and  his  eyebrows  too  heavy.  His  great 
height,  six  feet  three,  invariably  made  him  appear 
gaunt  and  serious.  Though  he  had  served  the  entire 
four  years  in  the  Confederate  army,  entering  a  private 
in  the  ranks  at  eighteen,  emerging  a  major  in  com 
mand  of  a  shattered  regiment  at  twenty-two,  his  figure 
did  not  convey  the  impression  of  military  training.  He 
walked  easily,  with  the  long,  loose  stride  of  the  South- 
ener,  his  shoulders  slightly  stooped  from  the  habit  of 
incessant  reading. 

He  was  lifting  his  broad  shoulders  now  in  an  ominous 
way  as  he  folded  his  clenched  fists  behind  his  back  and 
listened  to  the  negro  auctioneer. 

"Come  now,  gemmens,"  he  went  on ;  "what's  de  lowes' 
offer  ye  gwine  ter  start  me  fer  dese  folks?  'Member, 
now,  de  lowes'  bid  gets  'em,  not  de  highes'!  'Fore  de 
war  de  black  man  wuz  put  on  de  block  an'  sole  ter  de 
highes*  bidder !  Times  is  changed " 

"Yas,  Lawd !"  shouted  a  negro  woman. 

"Times  is  changed,  I  tells  ye! — now  I  gwine  ter  sell 
dese  po'  white  folks  ter  de  lowes'  bidder.  Whosomever'll 
take  de  Po'  House  and  bode  'em  fer  de  least  money  gits 
de  whole  bunch.  An'  you  has  de  right  ter  make  'em 
all  work  de  Po'  farm.  Dey  kin  work,  too,  an'  don'  ye 
fergit  it.  Dese  here  ones  I  fotch  out  here  ter  show  ye 
is  all  soun'  in  wind  and  limb.  De  bedridden  ones  ain't 
here.  Dey  ain't  but  six  er  dem.  What's  de  lowes'  b\l 
now,  gemmens,  yer  gwine  ter  gimme  ter  bode  'em  by 
de  month?  Look  'em  all  over,  gemmens,  I  warrants 

6 


THE   WOMAN  IN   YELLOW 

'em  ter  be  sound  in  wind  an'  limb.  Sound  in  wind  an' 
limb." 

The  auctioneer's  sonorous  voice  lingered  on  this 
phrase  and  repeated  it  again  and  again. 

The  watcher  at  the  window  turned  away  in  disgust, 
walked  back  to  his  desk,  sat  down,  fidgeted  in  his  seat, 
rose  and  returned  to  the  window  in  time  to  hear  the  cry : 

"An'  sold  to  Mister  Abum  Russ  fer  fo'  dollars  a 
month !" 

Could  it  be  possible  that  he  heard  aright  ?  Abe  Russ 
the  keeper  to  the  poor!— a  drunkard,  wife  beater,  and 
midnight  prowler.  His  father  before  him,  "Devil  Tom 
Russ,"  had  been  a  notorious  character,  yet  he  had  at 
least  one  redeeming  quality  that  saved  him  from  con 
tempt — a  keen  sense  of  humor.  He  had  made  his  liv 
ing  on  a  ten-acre  red  hill  farm  and  never  used  a  horse 
or  an  ox.  He  hitched  himself  to  the  plow  and  made 
Abe  seize  the  handles.  This  strange  team  worked  the 
fields.  No  matter  how  hard  the  day's  task  the  elder 
Russ  never  quite  lost  his  humorous  view  of  life.  When 
the  boy,  tired  and  thirsty,  would  stop  and  go  to  the 
spring  for  water,  a  favorite  trick  of  his  was  to  place 
a  piece  of  paper  or  a  chunk  of  wood  in  the  furrow  a 
few  yards  ahead.  When  the  boy  returned  and  they 
approached  this  object,  the  old  man  would  stop,  lift 
his  head  and  snort,  back  and  fill,  frisk  and  caper,  plunge 
and  kick,  and  finally  break  and  run,  tearing  over  the 
fields  like  a  maniac,  dragging  the  plow  after  him  with 
the  breathless  boy  clinging  to  the  handles.  He  would 
then  quietly  unhitch  himself  and  thrash  Abe  within  an 
inch  of  his  life  for  being  so  careless  as  to  allow  a  horse 
to  run  away  with  him. 

But  Abe  grew  up  without  a  trace  of  his  father's  sense 

7 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

of  humor,  picked  out  the  strongest  girl  he  could  find 
for  a  wife  and  hitched  her  to  the  plow!  And  he  per 
mitted  no  pranks  to  enliven  the  tedium  of  work  except 
the  amusement  he  allowed  himself  of  beating  her  at 
mealtimes  after  she  had  cooked  his  food. 

He  had  now  turned  politician,  joined  the  Loyal 
Black  League  and  was  the  successful  bidder  for  Keeper 
of  the  Poor.  It  was  in-credible! 

The  watcher  was  roused  from  his  painful  reverie 
by  a  reporter's  voice: 

"I  think  there's  a  man  waiting  in  the  hall  to  see  you, 
sir." 

"Who  is  it?" 

The  reporter  smiled: 

"Mr.  Bob  Peeler." 

"What  on  earth  can  that  old  scoundrel  want  with  me? 
All  right — show  him  in." 

The  editor  was  busy  writing  when  Mr.  Peeler  entered 
the  room  furtively.  He  was  coarse,  heavy  and  fifty 
years  old.  His  red  hair  hung  in  tangled  locks  below 
his  ears  and  a  bloated  double  chin  lapped  his  collar. 
His  legs  were  slightly  bowed  from  his  favorite  mode  of 
travel  on  horseback  astride  a  huge  stallion  trapped  with 
tin  and  brass  bespangled  saddle.  His  supposed  business 
was  farming  and  the  raising  of  blooded  horses.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  farm  was  in  the  hands  of  tenants 
and  gambling  was  his  real  work. 

Of  late  he  had  been  displaying  a  hankering  for  negro 
politics.  A  few  weeks  before  he  had  created  a  sensa 
tion  by  applying  to  the  clerk  of  the  court  for  a  license 
to  marry  his  mulatto  housekeeper.  It  was  common  re 
port  that  this  woman  was  the  mother  of  a  beautiful 
octoroon  daughter  with  hair  exactly  the  color  of  old 

8 


THE   WOMAN  IN   YELLOW 

Peeler's.      Few  people   had   seen   her.      She   had  been 
away  at  school  since  her  tenth  year. 

The  young  editor  suddenly  wheeled  in  his  chair  and 
spoke  with  quick  emphasis: 

"Mr.  Peeler,  I  believe?" 

The  visitor's  face  lighted  with  a  maudlin  attempt  at 
politeness : 

"Yes,  sir ;  yes,  sir ! — and  I'm  shore  glad  to  meet  you., 
Major  Norton!" 

He  came  forward  briskly,  extending  his  fat  mottled 
hand. 

Norton  quietly  ignored  the  offer  by  placing  a  chair 
beside  his  desk : 

"Have  a  seat,  Mr.  Peeler." 

The  heavy  figure  flopped  into  the  chair: 

"I  want  to  ask  your  advice,  major,  about  a  little 
secret  matter" — he  glanced  toward  the  door  leading 
into  the  reporters'  room. 

The  editor  rose,  closed  the  door  and  resumed  his  seat: 

"Well,  sir;  how  can  I  serve  you?" 

The  visitor  fumbled  in  his  coat  pocket  and  drew  out 
a  crumpled  piece  of  paper  which  he  fingered  gingerly: 

"I've  been  readin'  your  editorials  agin'  secret  socie 
ties,  major,  and  I  like  'em — that's  why  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  put  my  trust  in  you " 

"Why,  I  thought  you  were  a  member  of  the  Loyal 
Black  League,  Mr.  Peeler?" 

"No,  sir — it's  a  mistake,  sir,"  was  the  smooth  lying 
answer.  "I  hain't  got  nothin'  to  do  with  no  secret  so 
ciety.  I  hate  'em  all — just  run  your  eye  over  that, 
major." 

He  extended  the  crumpled  piece  of  paper  on  which 
was  scrawled  in  boyish  writing : 

9 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

"We  hear  you  want  to  marry  a  nigger.  Our  advice  is 
to  leave  this  country  for  the  more  congenial  climate  of 
Africa. 

"By  order  of  the  Grand  Cyclops,  KU  KLUX  KLAN." 

The  young  editor  studied  the  scrawl  in  surprise: 

"A  silly  prank  of  schoolboys !"  he  said  at  length. 

"You  think  that's  all?"  Peeler  asked  dubiously. 

"Certainly.  The  Ku  Klux  Klan  have  more  important 
tasks  on  hand  just  now.  No  man  in  their  authority 
sent  that  to  you.  Their  orders  are  sealed  in  red  ink 
with  a  crossbones  and  skull.  I've  seen  several  of  them. 
Pay  no  attention  to  this — it's  a  fake." 

"I  don't  think  so,  major — just  wait  a  minute,  I'll 
show  you  something  worse  than  a  red-ink  crossbones 
and  skull." 

Old  Peeler  tipped  to  the  door  leading  into  the  hall 
way,  opened  it,  peered  out  and  waved  his  fat  hand, 
beckoning  someone  to  enter. 

The  voice  of  a  woman  was  heard  outside  protesting: 

"No— no— I'll  stay  here— 

Peeler  caught  her  by  the  arm  and  drew  her  within : 

"This  is  Lucy,  my  housekeeper,  major." 

The  editor  looked  in  surprise  at  the  slender,  grace 
ful  figure  of  the  mulatto.  He  had  pictured  her  coarse 
and  heavy.  He  saw  instead  a  face  of  the  clean-cut 
Aryan  type  with  scarcely  a  trace  of  negroid  character. 
Only  the  thick  curling  hair,  shining  black  eyes  and  deep 
yellow  skin  betrayed  the  African  mother. 

Peeler's  eyes  were  fixed  in  a  tense  stare  on  a  small 
bundle  she  carried.  His  voice  was  a  queer  muffled 
tremor  as  he  slowly  said : 

"Unwrap  the  thing  and  show  it  to  him." 

The  woman  looked  at  the  editor  and  smiled  con- 

10 


THE   WOMAN   IN    YELLOW 

temptuously,  showing  two  rows  of  perfect  teeth,  as 
she  slowly  drew  the  brown  wrapper  from  a  strange  ob 
ject  which  she  placed  on  the  desk. 

The  editor  picked  the  thing  up,  looked  at  it  and 
laughed. 

It  was  a  tiny  pine  coffin  about  six  inches  long  and 
two  inches  wide.  A  piece  of  glass  was  fitted  into  the 
upper  half  of  the  lid  and  beneath  the  glass  was  placed 
a  single  tube  rose  whose  peculiar  penetrating  odor  al 
ready  filled  the  room. 

Peeler  mopped  the  perspiration  from  his  brow. 

"Now,  what  do  you  think  of  that?"  he  asked  in  an 
awed  whisper. 

In  spite  of  an  effort  at  self-control,  Norton  broke 
into  a  peal  of  laughter: 

"It  does  look  serious,  doesn't  it?" 

"Serious  ain't  no  word  for  it,  sir !  It  not  only  looks 
like  death,  but  I'm  damned  if  it  don't  smell  like  it — 
smell  it!" 

"So  it  does,"  the  editor  agreed,  lifting  the  box  and 
breathing  the  perfume  of  the  pale  little  flower. 

"And  that  ain't  all,"  Peeler  whispered,  "look  inside 
of  it." 

He  opened  the  lid  and  drew  out  a  tightly  folded 
scrap  of  paper  on  which  was  written  in  pencil  the 
words : 

"You  lying,  hypocritical,  blaspheming  old  scoundrel — 
unless  you  leave  the  country  within  forty-eight  hours,  this 
coffin  will  be  large  enough  to  hold  all  we'll  leave  of 
you.  K.  K.  K." 

The  editor  frowned  and  then  smiled. 
"All  a  joke,  Peeler,"  he  said  reassuringly. 

11 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

But  Peeler  was  not  convinced.  He  leaned  close  and 
his  whiskey-laden  breath  seemed  to  fill  the  room  as  his 
fat  finger  rested  on  the  word  "blaspheming:" 

"I  don't  like  that  word,  major;  it  sounds  like  a 
preacher  had  something  to  do  with  the  writin'  of  it. 
You  know  I've  been  a  tough  customer  in  my  day  and 
I  used  to  cuss  the  preachers  in  this  county  somethin' 
frightful.  Now,  ye  see,  if  they  should  be  in  this  Ku 
Klux  Klan — I  ain't  er  skeered  er  their  hell  hereafter, 
but  they  sho'  might  give  me  a  taste  in  this  world  of 
what  they  think's  comin'  to  me  in  the  next.  I  tell  you 
that  thing  makes  the  cold  chills  run  down  my  back. 
Now,  major,  I  reckon  you're  about  the  level-headest 
and  the  most  influential  man  in  the  county — the  ques 
tion  is,  what  shall  I  do  to  be  saved?" 

Again  Norton  laughed: 

"Nothing.    It's  a  joke,  I  tell  you " 

"But  the  Ku  Klux  Klan  ain't  no  joke!"  persisted 
Peeler.  "More  than  a  thousand  of  'em — some  say  five 
thousand — paraded  the  county  two  "weeks  ago.  A 
hundred  of  'em  passed  my  house.  I  saw  their  white 
shrouds  glisten  in  the  moonlight.  I  said  my  prayers 
that  night !  I  says  to  myself,  if  it  don't  do  no  good, 
at  least  it  can't  do  no  harm.  I  tell  you,  the  Klan's  no 
joke.  If  you  think  so,  take  a  walk  through  that  crowd 
in  the  Square  to-day  and  see  how  quiet  they  are.  Last 
court  day  every  nigger  that  could  holler  was  makin'  a 
speech  yellin'  that  old  Thad  Stevens  was  goin'  to  hang 
Andy  Johnson,  the  President,  from  the  White  House 
porch,  take  every  foot  of  land  from  the  rebels  and  give 
it  to  the  Loyal  Black  League.  Now,  by  gum,  there's  a 
strange  peace  in  Israel!  I  felt  it  this  mornin'  as  I 
walked  through  them  crowds — and  comin'  back  to  this 


THE   WOMAN   IN   YELLOW 

coffin,  major,  the  question  is — what  shall  I  do  to  be 
saved?" 

"Go  home  and  forget  about  it,"  was  the  smiling  an 
swer.  "The  Klan  didn't  send  that  thing  to  you  or 
write  that  message." 

"You  think  not?" 

"I  know  they  didn't.  It's  a  forgery.  A  trick  of 
some  devilish  boys." 

Peeler  scratched  his  red  head: 

"I'm  glad  you  think  so,  major.  I'm  a  thousand  times 
obliged  to  you,  sir.  I'll  sleep  better  to-night  after  this 
talk." 

"Would  you  mind  leaving  this  little  gift  with  me, 
Peeler?"  Norton  asked,  examining  the  neat  workman 
ship  of  the  coffin. 

"Certainly — certainly,  major,  keep  it.  Keep  it  and 
more  than  welcome !  It's  a  gift  I  don't  crave,  sir.  I'll 
feel  better  to  know  you've  got  it." 

The  yellow  woman  waited  beside  the  door  until  Peeler 
had  passed  out,  bowed  her  thanks,  turned  and  followed 
her  master  at  a  respectful  distance. 

The  editor  watched  them  cross  the  street  with  a  look 
of  loathing,  muttering  slowly  beneath  his  breath: 

"Oh,  my  country,  what  a  problem — what  a  prob 
lem!" 

He  turned  again  to  his  desk  and  forgot  his  burden  in 
the  joy  of  work.  He  loved  this  work.  It  called  for 
the  best  that's  in  the  strongest  man.  It  was  a  man's 
work  for  men.  When  he  struck  a  blow  he  saw  the 
dent  of  his  hammer  on  the  iron,  and  heard  it  ring  to 
the  limits  of  the  state. 

Dimly  aware  that  some  one  had  entered  his  room  un 
announced,  he  looked  up,  sprang  to  his  feet  and  ex- 

13 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

tended  his  hand  in  hearty  greeting  to  a  stalwart  farmer 
who  stood  smiling  into  his  face: 

"Hello,  MacArthur!" 

"Hello,  my  captain!  You  know  you  weren't  a  major 
long  enough  for  me  to  get  used  to  it — and  it  sounds  too 
old  for  you  anyhow " 

"And  how's  the  best  sergeant  that  ever  walloped  a 
recruit?" 

"Bully,"  was  the  hearty  answer. 

The  young  editor  drew  his  old  comrade  in  arms  down 
into  his  chair  and  sat  on  the  table  facing  him: 

"And  how's  the  wife  and  kids,  Mac?" 

"Bully,"  he  repeated  evenly  and  then  looked  up  with 
a  puzzled  expression. 

"Look  here,  Bud,"  he  began  quietly,  "you've  got  me 
up  a  tree.  These  editorials  in  The  Eagle  and  Phoenix 
cussin'  the  Klan " 

"You  don't  like  them?" 

"Not  a  little  wee  bit !" 

The  editor  smiled: 

"You've  got  Scotch  blood  in  you,  Mac — that's  what's 
the  matter  with  you " 

"Same  to  you,  sir." 

"But  my  great-great-grandmother  was  a  Huguenot 
and  the  French,  you  know,  had  a  saving  sense  of  humor. 
The  Scotch  are  thick,  Mac !" 

"Well,  I'm  too  thick  to  know  what  you  mean  by 
lambastin'  our  only  salvation.  The  Ku  Klux  Klan  have 
had  just  one  parade — and  there  hasn't  been  a  barn 
burnt  in  this  county  or  a  white  woman  scared  since,  and 
every  nigger  I've  met  to-day  has  taken  off  his  hat " 

"Are  you  a  member  of  the  Klan,  Mac?"  The  ques 
tion  was  asked  with  his  face  turned  away. 

14 


THE   WOMAN   IN   YELLOW 

The  farmer  hesitated,  looked  up  at  the  ceiling  and 
quietly  answered: 

"None  of  your  business — and  that's  neither  here  nor 
there — you  know  that  every  nigger  is  organized  in  that 
secret  Black  League,  grinning  and  whispering  its  signs 
and  passwords — you  know  that  they've  already  begun 
to  grip  the  throats  of  our  women.  The  Klan's  the  only 
way  to  save  this  country  from  hell — what  do  you  mean 
by  jumpin'  on  it?" 

"The  Black  League's  a  bad  thing,  Mac,  and  th< 
Klan's  a  bad  thing " 

"All  right — still  you've  got  to  fight  the  devil  with 
fire " 

"You  don't  say  so?"  the  editor  said,  while  a  queef 
smile  played  around  his  serious  mouth. 

"Yes,  by  golly,  I  do  say  so,"  the  farmer  went  on  with 
increasing  warmth,  "and  what  I  can't  understand  is  how 
you're  against  'em.  You're  a  leader.  You're  a  soldier 
— the  bravest  that  ever  led  his  men  into  the  jaws  of 
death — I  know,  for  I've  been  with  you — and  I  just  come 
down  here  to-day  to  ask  you  the  plain  question,  what 
do  you  mean?" 

"The  Klan  is  a  band  of  lawless  night  raiders,  isn't 
it?" 

"Oh,  you  make  me  tired !  What  are  we  to  do  without 
'em,  that's  the  question  ?" 

"Scotch!  That's  the  trouble  with  you" — th<J 
young  editor  answered  carelessly.  "Have  you  a 
pin?" 

The  rugged  figure  suddenly  straightened  as  though 
a  bolt  of  lightning  had  shot  down  his  spine. 

"What's— what's  that?"  he  gasped. 

"I  merely  asked,  have  you  a  pin?"  was  the  even  an- 

15 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

swer,  as  Norton  touched  the  right  lapel  of  his  coat  with 
his  right  hand. 

The  farmer  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  slowly  ran 
three  trembling  fingers  of  his  left  hand  over  the  left 
lapel  of  his  coat,  replying: 

"I'm  afraid  not." 

He  looked  at  Norton  a  moment  and  turned  pale.  He 
had  been  given  and  had  returned  the  signs  of  the  Klan. 
It  might  have  been  an  accident.  The  rugged  face  was  a 
study  of  eager  intensity  as  he  put  his  friend  to  the  test 
that  would  tell.  He  slowly  thrust  the  fingers  of  his 
right  hand  into  the  right  pocket  of  his  trousers,  the 
thumb  protruding. 

Norton  quietly  answered  in  the  sams  way  with  his 
left  hand. 

The  farmer  looked  into  the  smiling  brown  eyes  of 
his  commander  for  a  moment  and  his  own  filled  with 
tears.  He  sprang  forward  and  gi-asped  the  out 
stretched  hand: 

"Dan  Norton !  I  said  last  night  to  my  God  that  you 
couldn't  be  against  us!  And  so  I  came  to  ask — oh, 
why — why've  you  been  foolin'  with  me?" 

The  editor  tenderly  slipped  his  tirm  around  his  old 
comrade  and  whispered: 

jp  "The  cunning  of  the  fox  and  the  courage  of  the  lion 
now,  Mac !  It  was  easy  for  our  boys  to  die  in  battle 
while  guns  were  thundering,  fifes  screaming,  drums  beat 
ing  and  the  banners  waving.  You  and  I  have  something 
harder  to  do — we've  got  to  live — our  watchword,  'The 
cunning  of  the  fox  and  the  courage  of  the  lion!'  I've 
some  dangerous  work  to  do  pretty  soon.  The  little 
Scalawag  Governor  is  getting  ready  for  us " 

"I  want  that  job!"  Mac  Arthur  cried  eagerly. 

16 


THE   WOMAN  IN   YELLOW 

"I'll  let  you  know  when  the  time  comes." 

The  farmer  smiled  : 

"I  am  a  Scotchman — ain't  I?" 

"And  a  good  one,  too!" 

With  his  hand  on  the  door,  the  rugged  face  aflame 
with  patriotic  fire,  he  slowly  repeated : 

"The  cunning  of  the  fox  and  the  courage  of  the  lion ! 
— And  by  the  living  God,  we'll  win  this  time,  boy !" 

-Norton  heard  him  laugh  aloud  as  he  hurried  down 
the  stairs.  Gazing  again  from  his  window  at  the  black 
clouds  of  negroes  floating  across  the  Square,  he  slowly 
muttered : 

"Yes,  we'll  win  this  time! — but  twenty  years  from 
now — I  wonder!" 

He  took  up  the  little  black  coffin  and  smiled  at  the 
perfection  of  its  workmanship: 

"I  think  I  know  the  young  gentleman  who  made  that 
and  he  may  give  me  trouble." 

He  thrust  the  thing  into  a  drawer,  seized  his  hat, 
strolled  down  a  side  street  and  slowly  passed  the  cabinet 
shop  of  the  workman  whom  he  suspected.  It  was  closed. 
Evidently  the  master  had  business  outside.  It  was 
barely  possible,  of  course,  that  he  had  gone  to  the  gal 
leries  of  the  Capitol  to  hear  the  long-expected  message 
of  the  Governor  against  the  Klan.  The  galleries  had 
been  packed  for  the  past  two  sessions  in  anticipation  of 
this  threatened  message.  The  Capital  city  was  only  a 
town  of  five  thousand  white  inhabitants  and  four  thou 
sand  blacks.  Rumors  of  impending  political  movements 
flew  from  house  to  house  with  the  swiftness  of  village 
gossip. 

He  walked  to  the  Capitol  building  by  a  quiet  street. 
As  he  passed  through  the  echoing  corridor  the  rotund 

n, 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

figure  of  Schlitz,  the  Carpetbagger,  leader  of  the  House 
of  Representatives,  emerged  from  the  Governor's  office. 

The  red  face  flushed  a  purple  hue  as  his  eye  rested 
on  his  arch-enemy  of  the  Eagle  and  Phoenix.  He  tried 
to  smile  and  nodded  to  Norton.  His  smile  was  answered 
by  a  cold  stare  and  a  quickened  step. 

Schlitz  had  been  a  teamster's  scullion  in  the  Union 
Army.  He  was  not  even  an  army  cook,  but  a  servant  of 
servants.  He  was  now  the  master  of  the  Legislature  of 
a  great  Southern  state  and  controlled  its  black,  ignorant 
members  with  a  snap  of  his  bloated  fingers.  There  was 
but  one  man  Norton  loathed  with  greater  intensity  and 
that  was  the  shrewd  little  Scalawag  Governor,  the  native 
traitor  who  had  betrayed  his  people  to  win  office.  A 
conference  of  these  two  cronies  was  always  an  ill  omen 
for  the  state. 

He  hurried  up  the  winding  stairs,  pushed  his  way  into 
a  corner  of  the  crowded  galleries  from  which  he  could 
see  every  face  and  searched  in  vain  for  his  young  work 
man. 

He  stood  for  a  moment,  looked  down  on  the  floor  of 
the  House  and  watched  a  Black  Parliament  at  work 
making  laws  to  govern  the  children  of  the  men  who 
had  created  the  Republic — watched  them  through  fetid 
smoke,  the  vapors  of  stale  whiskey  and  the  deafening 
roar  of  half-drunken  brutes  as  they  voted  millions  in 
taxes,  their  leaders  had  already  stolen. 

The  red  blood  rushed  to  his  cheeks  and  the  big  veins 
on  his  slender  swarthy  neck  stood  out  for  a  moment 
like  drawn  cords. 

He  hurried  down  to  the  Court  House  Square,  walked 
with  long,  leisurely  stride  through  the  thinning  crowds, 
and  paused  before  a  vacant  lot  on  the  opposite  side  of 

18 


THE   WOMAN  IN   YELLOW 

the  street.  A  dozen  or  more  horses  were  still  tied  to 
the  racks  provided  for  the  accommodation  of  country 
men. 

"Funny,"  he  muttered,  "farmers  start  home  before 
sundown,  and  it's  dusk — I  wonder  if  it's  possible !" 

He  crossed  the  street,  strolled  carelessly  among  the 
horses  and  noted  that  their  saddles  had  not  been  re 
moved  and  the  still  more  significant  fact  that  their  sad 
dle  blankets  were  unusually  thick.  Only  an  eye  trained 
to  observe  this  fact  would  have  noticed  it.  He  lifted 
the  edge  of  one  of  the  blankets  and  saw  the  white  and 
scarlet  edges  of  a  Klan  costume.  It  was  true.  The 
young  dare-devil  who  had  sent  that  message  to  old  Peeler 
had  planned  an  unauthorized  raid.  Only  a  crowd  of 
youngsters  bent  on  a  night's  fun,  he  knew ;  and  yet  the 
act  at  this  moment  meant  certain  anarchy  unless  he 
nipped  it  in  the  bud.  The  Klan  was  a  dangerous  insti 
tution.  Its  only  salvation  lay  in  the  absolute  obedience 
of  its  members  to  the  orders  of  an  intelligent  and  pa 
triotic  chief.  Unless  the  word  of  that  chief  remained 
the  sole  law  of  its  life,  a  reign  of  terror  by  irresponsible 
fools  would  follow  at  once.  As  commander  of  the  Klan 
in  his  county  he  must  subdue  this  lawless  element.  It 
must  be  done  with  an  iron  hand  and  done  immediately 
or  it  would  be  too  late.  His  decision  to  act  was  instan 
taneous. 

He  sent  a  message  to  his  wife  that  he  couldn't  get 
home  for  supper,  locked  his  door  and  in  three  hours 
finished  his  day's  work.  There  was  ample  time  to  head 
these  boys  off  before  they  reached  old  Peeler's  house. 
They  couldn't  start  before  eleven,  yet  he  would  take  no 
chances.  He  determined  to  arrive  an  hour  ahead  of 
them. 

19 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

The  night  was  gloriously  beautiful — a  clear  star- 
gemmed  sky  in  the  full  tide  of  a  Southern  summer,  the 
first  week  in  August.  He  paused  inside  the  gate  of  his 
home  and  drank  for  a  moment  the  perfume  of  the  roses 
on  the  lawn.  The  light  from  the  window  of  his  wife's 
room  poured  a  mellow  flood  of  welcome  through  the 
shadows  beside  the  white,  fluted  columns.  This  home 
of  his  father's  was  all  the  wreck  of  war  had  left  him 
and  his  heart  gave  a  throb  of  joy  to-night  that  it  was 
his. 

Behind  the  room  where  the  delicate  wife  lay,  a  petted 
invalid,  was  the  nursery.  His  baby  boy  was  there,  nest 
ling  in  the  arms  of  the  black  mammy  who  had  nursed 
him  twenty  odd  years  ago.  He  could  hear  the  soft 
crooning  of  her  dear  old  voice  singing  the  child  to 
sleep.  The  heart  of  the  young  father  swelled  with 
pride.  He  loved  his  frail  little  wife  with  a  deep,  tender 
passion,  but  this  big  rosy-cheeked,  laughing  boy, 
which  she  had  given  him  six  months  ago,  he  fairly  wor 
shipped. 

He  stopped  again  under  the  nursery  window  and  lis 
tened  to  the  music  of  the  cradle.  The  old  lullaby  had 
waked  a  mocking  bird  in  a  magnolia  beside  the  porch 
and  he  was  answering  her  plaintive  wail  with  a  thrilling 
love  song.  By  the  strange  law  of  contrast,  his  memory 
flashed  over  the  fields  of  death  he  had  trodden  in  the 
long  war. 

"What  does  it  matter  after  all,  these  wars  and  revolu 
tions,  if  God  only  brings  with  each  new  generation  a 
nobler  breed  of  men !" 

He  tipped  softly  past  the  window  lest  his  footfall 
disturb  the  loved  ones  above,  hurried  to  the  stable,  sad 
dled  his  horse  and  slowly  rode  through  the  quiet  streets 

20 


THE    WOMAN  IN   YELLOW 

of  the  town.  On  clearing  the  last  clump  of  negro  cabins 
on  the  outskirts  his  pace  quickened  to  a  gallop. 

He  stopped  in  the  edge  of  the  woods  at  the  gate 
which  opened  from  Peeler's  farm  on  the  main  road.  The 
boys  would  have  to  enter  here.  He  would  stop  them 
at  this  spot. 

The  solemn  beauty  of  the  night  stirred  his  soul  to 
visions  of  the  future,  and  the  coming  battle  which  his 
Klan  must  fight  for  the  mastery  of  the  state.  The  chirp 
of  crickets,  the  song  of  katydids  and  the  flash  of  fire 
flies  became  the  martial  music  and  the  flaming  torches 
of  triumphant  hosts  he  saw  marching  to  certain  victory. 
But  the  Klan  he  was  leading  was  a  wild  horse  that  must 
be  broken  to  the  bit  or  both  horse  and  rider  would 
plunge  to  ruin. 

There  would  be  at  least  twenty  or  thirty  of  these 
youn£  marauders  to-night.  If  they  should  unite  in 
defying  his  authority  it  would  be  a  serious  and  danger 
ous  situation.  Somebody  might  be  killed.  And  yet  he 
waited  without  a  fear  of  the  outcome.  He  had  faced 
odds  before.  He  loved  a  battle  when  the  enemy  out 
numbered  him  two  to  one.  It  stirred  his  blood.  He 
had  ridden  with  Forrest  one  night  at  the  head  of  four 
hundred  daring,  ragged  veterans,  surrounded  a  crack 
Union  regiment  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and 
forced  their  commander  to  surrender  1800  men  before 
he  discovered  the  real  strength  of  the  attacking  force. 
It  stirred  his  blood  to-night  to  know  that  General  For 
rest  was  the  Commander-in-Chief  of  his  own  daring 
Clansmen. 

Half  an  hour  passed  without  a  sign  of  the  youngsters. 
He  grew  uneasy.  Could  they  have  dared  to  ride  so 
early  that  they  had  reached  the  house  before  his  arrival? 

21 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

He  must  know  at  once.     He  opened  the  gate  and  gal 
loped  down  the  narrow  track  at  a  furious  pace. 

A  hundred  yards  from  Peeler's  front  gate  he  drew 
rein  and  listened.  A  horse  neighed  in  the  woods,  and 
the  piercing  shriek  of  a  woman  left  nothing  to  doubt. 
They  were  already  in  the  midst  of  their  dangerous 
comedy. 

He  pressed  cautiously  toward  the  gate,  riding  in  the 
shadows  of  the  overhanging  trees.  They  were  dragging 
old  Peeler  across  the  yard  toward  the  roadway,  followed 
by  the  pleading  voice  of  a  woman  begging  for  his  worth 
less  life. 

Realizing  that  the  raid  was  now  an  accomplished  fact, 
Norton  waited  to  see  what  the  young  fools  were  going 
to  do.  He  was  not  long  in  doubt.  They  dragged  their 
panting,  perspiring  victim  into  the  edge  of  the  woods, 
tied  him  to  a  sapling  and  bared  his  back.  The  leader 
stepped  forward  holding  a  lighted  torch  whose  flicker 
ing  flames  made  an  unearthly  picture  of  the  distorted 
features  and  bulging  eyes. 

"Mr.  Peeler,"  began  the  solemn  muffled  voice  behind 
the  cloth  mask,  "for  your  many  sins  and  blasphemies 
against  God  and  man  the  preachers  of  this  county  have 
assembled  to-night  to  call  you  to  repentance 

The  terror-stricken  eyes  bulged  further  and  the  fat 
neck  twisted  in  an  effort  to  see  how  many  ghastly  fig 
ures  surrounded  him,  as  he  gasped: 

"Oh,  Lord — oh,  hell — are  you  all  preachers?" 

"All!"  was  the  solemn  echo  from  each  sepulchral 
figure. 

"Then  I'm  a  goner — that  coffin's  too  big " 

"Yea,  verily,  there'll  be  nothing  left  when  we  get 
through — Selah!"  solemnly  cried  the  leader. 


THE   WOMAN   IN   YELLOW 


"But,  say,  look  here,  brethren,"  Peeler  pleaded  be 
tween  shattering  teeth,  "can't  we  compromise  this 
thing?  I'll  repent  and  join  the  church.  And  how'll  a 
contribution  of  fifty  dollars  each  strike  you?  Now 
what  do  you  say  to  that?" 

The  coward's  voice  had  melted  into  a  pious  whine. 

The  leader  selected  a  switch  from  the  bundle  extended 
by  a  shrouded  figure  and  without  a  word  began  to  lay 
on.  Peeler's  screams  could  be  heard  a  mile. 

Norton  allowed  them  to  give  him  a  dozen  lashes  and 
spurred  his  horse  into  the  crowd.  There  was  a  wild 
scramble  to  cover  and  most  of  the  boys  leaped  to  their 
saddles.  Three  white  figures  resolutely  '  stood  their 
ground. 

...  "What's  the  meaning  of  this,  sir?"    Norton  sternly 
-demanded  of  the  man  who  still  held  the  switch. 
F-,     "Just  a  little  fun,  major,"  was  the  sheepish  answer. 

"A  dangerous  piece  of  business." 

"For  God's  sake,  save  me,  Major  Norton!"  Peeler 
cried,  suddenly  waking  from  the  spell  of  fear.  "They've 
got  me,  sir — and  it's  just  like  I  told  you,  they're  all 
preachers — I'm  a  goner !" 

Norton  sprang  from  his  horse  and  faced  the  three 
white  figures. 

"Who's  in  command  of  this  crowd?" 

"I  am,  sir!"  came  the  quick  answer  from  a  stal 
wart  masquerader  who  suddenly  stepped  from  the 
shadows. 

jrton  recognized  the  young  cabinet-maker's  voice, 
and  spoke  in  low  tense  tones : 

"By  whose  authority  are  you  using  these  disguises 
to-night?" 

"It's  none  of  your  business !" 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

The  tall  sinewy  figure  suddenly  stiffened,  stepped 
close  and  peered  into  the  eyes  of  the  speaker's  mask : 

"Does  my  word  go  here  to-night  or  must  I  call  out 
a  division  of  the  Klan?" 

A  moment's  hesitation  and  the  eyes  behind  the  mask 
fell: 

"All  right,  sir — nothing  but  a  boyish  frolic,"  mut 
tered  the  leader  apologetically. 

"Let  this  be  the  end  of  such  nonsense,"  Norton  said 
with  a  quiet  drawl.  "If  I  catch  you  fellows  on  a  raid 
like  this  again  I'll  hang  your  leader  to  the  first  limb 
I  find — good  night." 

A  whistle  blew  and  the  beat  of  horses'  hoofs  along 
the  narrow  road  told  their  hurried  retreat. 

Norton  loosed  the  cords  and  led  old  Peeler  to  his 
house.  As  the  fat,  wobbling  legs  mounted  the  steps 
the  younger  man  paused  at  a  sound  from  behind  and  be 
fore  he  could  turn  a  girl  sprang  from  the  shadows  into 
his  arms,  and  slipped  to  her  knees,  sobbing  hysterically : 

"Save  me! — they're  going  to  beat  me — they'll  beat 
me  to  death — don't  let  them — please — please  don't  let 
them!" 

By  the  light  from  the  window  he  saw  that  her  hair 
was  a  deep  rich  red  with  the  slightest  tendency  to  curl 
and  her  wide  dilated  eyes  a  soft  greenish  grey. 

He  was  too  astonished  to  speak  for  a  moment  and 
Peeler  hastened  to  say: 

"That's  our  little  gal,  Cleo — that  is — I — mean — of — 
course — it's  Lucy's  gal!  She's  just  home  from  school 
.and  she's  scared  to  death  and  I  don't  blame  her  !" 

The  girl  clung  to  her  rescuer  with  desperate  grip, 
pressing  her  trembling  form  close  with  each  convulsive 
sob. 


THE   WOMAN   IN   YELLOW 

The  man  drew  the  soft  arms  down,  held  them  a  mo 
ment  and  looked  into  the  dumb  frightened  face.  He 
was  surprised  at  her  unusual  beauty.  Her  skin  was  a 
delicate  creamy  yellow,  almost  white,  and  her  cheeks 
were  tinged  with  the  brownish  red  of  ripe  apple.  As  he 
looked  in  to  her  eyes  he  fancied  that  he  saw  a  young 
leopardess  from  an  African  jungle  looking  at  him 
through  the  lithe,  graceful  form  of  a  Southern  woman. 

And  then  something  happened  in  the  shadows  that       x//^ 
stood  out  forever  in  his  memory  of  that  day  as  the 
turning  point  of  his  life. 

Laughing  at  her  fears,  he  suddenly  lifted  his  hand 
and  gently  stroked  the  tangled  red  hair,  smoothing  it 
back  from  her  forehead  with  a  movement  instinctive 
and  irresistible  as  he  would  have  smoothed  the  fur  of 
a  yellow  Persian  kitten. 

Surprised  at  his  act,  he  turned  without  a  word  and 
left  the  place. 

And  all  the  way  home,  through  the  solemn  starlit 
night,  he  brooded  over  the  strange  meeting  with  this 
extraordinary  girl.  He  forgot  his  fight.  One  thing 
only  stood  out  with  increasing  vividness — the  curious 
and  irresistible  impulse  that  caused  him  to  stroke  her 
hair.  Personally  he  had  always  loathed  the  Southern 
white  man  who  stooped  and  crawled  through  the  shad 
ows  to  meet  such  women.  She  was  a  negress  and  he 
knew  it,  and  yet  the  act  was  instinctive  and  irresistible. 

Why? 

He  asked  himself  the  question  a  hundred  times,  and 
the  longer  he  faced  it  the  angrier  he  became  at  his 
stupid  folly.  For  hours  he  lay  awake,  seeing  in 
darkness  only  the  face  of  this  girl. 

25 


CHAPTER  II 

CLEO     ENTERS 

THE  conference  of  the  carpetbagger  with  the  little 
Governor  proved  more  ominous  than  even  Norton  had 
feared.  The  blow  struck  was  so  daring,  so  swift  and 
unexpected  it  stunned  for  a  moment  the  entire  white  race. 

When  the  editor  reached  his  office  on  the  second 
morning  after  the  raid,  his  desk  was  piled  with  tele 
grams  from  every  quarter  of  the  state.  The  Governor 
had  issued  a  proclamation  disarming  every  white  mili 
tary  company  and  by  wire  had  demanded  the  immediate 
surrender  of  their  rifles  to  the  negro  Adjutant-General. 
The  same  proclamation  had  created  an  equal  number  of 
negro  companies  who  were  to  receive  these  guns  and 
equipments. 

The  negroid  state  Government  would  thus  command 
an  armed  black  guard  of  fifty  thousand  men  and  leave 
the  white  race  without  protection. 

Evidently  His  Excellency  was  a  man  of  ambitions. 
It  was  rumored  that  he  aspired  to  the  Vice-Presidency 
and  meant  to  win  the  honor  by  a  campaign  of  such  bril 
liance  that  the  solid  negro-ruled  South  would  back  him 
in  the  National  Convention. 

Beyond  a  doubt,  this  act  was  the  first  step  in  a  dar 
ing  attempt  inspired  by  the  radical  fanatics  in  Con 
gress  to  destroy  the  structure  of  white  civilization  in 
the  South. 


CLEO   ENTERS 


And  the  Governor's  resources  were  apparently  bound 
less.  President  Johnson,  though  a  native  Southerner, 
was  a  puppet  now  in  the  hands  of  his  powerful  enemies 
who  dominated  Congress.  These  men  boldly  proclaimed 
their  purpose  to  make  the  South  negro  territory  by 
confiscating  the  property  of  the  whites  and  giving  it 
to  the  negroes.  Their  bill  to  do  this,  House  Bill  Num 
ber  Twenty-nine,  introduced  by  the  government  leader, 
Thaddeus  Stevens,  was  already  in  the  calendar  and  Mr. 
Stevens  was  pressing  for  its  passage  with  all  the  skill 
of  a  trained  politician  inspired  by  the  fiercest  hate. 
The  army  had  been  sent  back  into  the  prostrate  South 
to  enforce  the  edicts  of  Congress  and  the  negro  state 
government  could  command  all  the  Federal  troops 
needed  for  any  scheme  concocted. 

But  the  little  Governor  had  a  plan  up  his  sleeve  by 
which  he  proposed  to  startle  even  the  Black  Radical 
Administration  at  Washington.  He  was  going  to  stamp 
out  "Rebellion"  without  the  aid  of  Federal  troops,  re 
serving  his  right  to  call  them  finally  as  a  last  resort. 
That  they  were  ready  at  his  nod  gave  him  the  moral 
support  of  their  actual  presence. 

That  any  man  born  of  a  Southern  mother  and  reared 
in  the  South  under  the  conditions  of  refinement  and 
culture,  of  the  high  ideals  and  the  courage  of  the  old 
regime,  could  fall  so  low  as  to  use  this  proclamation, 
struck  Norton  at  first  as  impossible.  He  refused  to 
believe  it.  There  must  be  some  misunderstanding.  He 
sent  a  messenger  to  the  Capitol  for  a  copy  of  the  docu 
ment  before  he  was  fully  convinced. 

And  then  he  laughed  in  sheer  desperation  at  the  farce- 
tragedy  to  which  the  life  of  a  brave  people  had  been 
reduced.  It  was  his  business  as  an  editor  to  record 

27 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

the  daily  history  of  the  times.  For  a  moment  in  im 
agination  he  stood  outside  his  office  and  looked  at  his 
work. 

"Future  generations  simply  can't  be  made  to  believe 
it!"  he  exclaimed.  "It's  too  grotesque  to  be  credible 
even  to-day." 

It  had  never  occurred  to  him  that  the  war  was  un 
reasonable.  Its  passions,  its  crushing  cost,  its  blood 
stained  fields,  its  frightful  cruelties  were  of  the  great 
movements  of  the  race  from  a  lower  to  a  higher  order 
of  life.  Progress  could  only  come  through  struggle. 
War  was  the  struggle  which  had  to  be  when  two  great 
moral  forces  clashed.  One  must  die,  the  other  live.  A 
great  issue  had  to  be  settled  in  the  Civil  War,  an  issue 
raised  by  the  creation  of  the  Constitution  itself,  an  issue 
its  creators  had  not  dared  to  face.  And  each  generation 
of  compromisers  and  interpreters  had  put  it  off  and 
put  it  off  until  at  last  the  storm  of  thundering  guns 
broke  from  a  hundred  hills  at  once. 

It  had  never  been  decided  by  the  builders  of  the  Re 
public  whether  it  should  be  a  mighty  unified  nation  or  a 
loose  aggregation  of  smaller  sovereignties.  Slavery 
made  it  necessary  to  decide  this  fundamental  question 
on  which  the  progress  of  America  and  the  future  lead 
ership  of  the  world  hung. 

He  could  see  all  this  clearly  now.  He  had  felt  it 
dimly  true  throughout  every  bloody  scene  of  the  war 
itself.  And  so  he  had  closed  the  eyes  of  the  lonely 
dying  boy  with  a  reverent  smile.  It  was  for  his  country. 
He  had  died  for  what  he  believed  to  be  right  and  it  was 
good.  He  had  stood  bareheaded  in  solemn  court  mar- 
tials  and  sentenced  deserters  to  death,  led  them  out  in 
the  gray  morning  to  be  shot  and  ordered  them  dumped 

28 


CLEO   ENTERS 


into  shallow  trenches  without  a  doubt  or  a  moment's 
Lcsitation.  He  had  walked  over  battlefields  at  night 
r.nd  heard  the  groans  of  the  wounded,  the  sighs  of  the 
dying,  the  curses  of  the  living,  beneath  the  silent  stars 
and  felt  that  in  the  end  it  must  be  good.  It  was  war, 
and  war,  however  cruel,  was  inevitable — the  great 
High  Court  of  Life  and  Death  for  the  nations  of 
earth. 

But  this  base  betrayal  which  had  followed  the  hon 
orable  surrender  of  a  brave,  heroic  army — this  wanton 
humiliation  of  a  ruined  people  by  pot-house  politicians 
— this  war  on  the  dead,  the  wounded,  the  dying,  and 
their  defenseless  w^omen — this  enthronement  of  Savag 
ery,  Superstition,  Cowardice  and  Brutality  in  high 
places  where  Courage  and  Honor  and  Chivalry  had 
:ruled — these  vandals  and  camp  followers  and  vultures 
provoking  violence  and  exciting  crime,  set  to  rule  a 
brave  people  who  had  risked  all  for  a  principle  and 
lost — this  was  a  nightmare;  it  was  the  reduction  of 
human  society  to  an  absurdity! 

For  a  moment  he  saw  the  world  red.     Anger,  fierce 
and  cruel,  possessed  him.   The  desire  to  kill  gripped  and  >    ^ ,  v 
strangled  until  he  could  scarcely  breathe. 

Nor  did  it  occur  to  this  man  for  a  moment  that  he 
could  separate  his  individual  life  from  the  life  of  his 
people.  His  paper  was  gaining  in  circulation  daily. 
It  was  paying  a  good  dividend  now  and  would  give  his 
loved  ones  the  luxuries  he  had  dreamed  for  them.  The 
greater  the  turmoil  the  greater  his  profits  would  be. 
And  yet  this  idea  never  once  flashed  through  his  mind. 
His  people  were  of  his  heart's  blood.  He  had  no  life 
apart  from  them.  Their  joys  were  his,  their  sorrows* 
his,  their  shame  his.  This  proclamation  of  a  traitor 

29 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

to  his  race  struck  him  in  the  face  as  a  direct  personal 
insult.  The  hot  shame  of  it  found  his  soul. 

When  the  first  shock  of  surprise  and  indignation  had 
spent  itself,  he  hurried  to  answer  his  telegrams.  His 
hand  wrote  now  with  the  eager,  sure  touch  of  a  master 
who  knew  his  business.  To  every  one  he  sent  in  sub 
stance  the  same  message: 

"Submit  and  await  orders." 

As  he  sat  writing  the*  fierce  denunciation  of  this  act 
of  the  Chief  Executive  of  the  state,  he  forgot  his  bit 
terness  in  the  thrill  of  life  that  meant  each  day  a  new 
adventure.  He  was  living  in  an  age  whose  simple  rec 
ord  must  remain  more  incredible  than  the  tales  of  the 
Arabian  Nights.  And  the  spell  of  its  stirring  call 
was  now  upon  him. 

The  drama  had  its  comedy  moments,  too.  He  could 
but  laugh  at  the  sorry  figures  the  little  puppets  cut 
who  were  strutting  for  a  day  in  pomp  and  splendor. 
Their  end  wras  as  sure  as  the  sweep  of  eternal  law. 
Water  could  not  be  made  to  run  up  hill  by  the  procla 
mation  of  a  Governor. 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  within  an  hour  to  give 
the  Scalawag  a  return  blow  that  would  be  more  swift 
and  surprising  than  his  own.  On  the  little  man's  re 
ception  of  that  counter  stroke  would  hang  the  destiny 
of  his  administration  and  the  history  of  the  state  for 
the  next  generation. 

On  the  day  the  white  military  companies  surrendered 
their  arms  to  their  negro  successors  something  hap 
pened  that  was  not  on  the  programme  of  the  Gover 
nor. 

The  Ku  Klux  Klan  held  its  second  grand  parade. 
It  was  not  merely  a  dress  affair.  A  swift  and  silent 

30 


CLEO   ENTERS 


army  of  drilled,  desperate  men,  armed  and  disguised, 
moved  with  the  precision  of  clockwork  at  the  command 
of  one  mind.  At  a  given  hour  the  armory  of  every 
negro  military  company  in  the  state  was  broken  open 
and  its  guns  recovered  by  the  white  and  scarlet  cavalry 
of  the  "Invisible  Empire." 

Within  the  next  hour  every  individual  negro  in  the 
state  known  to  be  in  possession  of  a  gun  or  pistol  was 
disarmed.  Resistance  was  futile.  The  attack  was  so 
sudden  and  so  unexpected,  the  attacking  party  so  over 
whelming  at  the  moment,  each  black  man  surrendered 
without  a  blow  and  a  successful  revolution  was  accom 
plished  in  a  night  without  a  shot  or  the  loss  of  a 
life. 

Next  morning  the  Governor  paced  the  floor  of  his 
office  in  the  Capitol  with  the  rage  of  a  maddened  beast, 
and  Schlitz,  the  Carpetbagger,  was  summoned  for  a 
second  council  of  war.  It  proved  to  be  a  very  impor 
tant  meeting  in  the  history^of  His  Excellency. 

The  editor  sat  at  his  desk  that  day  smiling  in  quiet 
triumph  as  he  read  the  facetious  reports  wired  by  his 
faithful  lieutenants  from  every  district  of  the  Klan. 
An  endless  stream  of  callers  had  poured  through  his 
modest  little  room  and  prevented  any  attempt  at  writ 
ing.  He  had  turned  the  columns  over  to  his  assistants 
and  the  sun  was  just  sinking  in  a  smother  of  purple 
glory  when  he  turned  from  his  window  and  began  to 
write  his  leader  for  the  day. 

It  was  an  easy  task.  A  note  of  defiant  power  ran 
through  a  sarcastic  warning  to  the  Governor  that  found 
the  quick.  The  editorial  flashed  with  wit  and  stung 
with  bitter  epigram.  And  there  was  in  his  conscious 
ness  of  power  a  touch  of  cruelty  that  should  have 

31 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

warned  the  Scalawag  against  his  next  act  of  supreme 
folly. 

But  His  Excellency  had  bad  advisers,  and  the  wheels 
of  Fate  moved  swiftly  toward  the  appointed  end. 

Norton  wrote  this  editorial  with  a  joy  that  gave 
its  crisp  sentences  the  ring  of  inspired  leadership.  He 
knew  that  every  paper  in  the  state  read  by  white  men 
and  women  would  copy  it  and  he  already  felt  in  his 
heart  the  reflex  thrill  of  its  call  to  his  people. 

He  had  just  finished  his  revision  of  the  last  paragraph 
when  a  deep,  laughing  voice  beside  his  chair  slowly  said : 

"May  I  come  in?" 

He  looked  up  with  a  start  to  find  the  tawny  figure  of 
the  girl  whose  red  hair  he  had  stroked  that  night  bow 
ing  and  smiling.  Her  white,  perfect  teeth  gleamed  in 
the  gathering  twilight  and  her  smile  displayed  two 
pretty  dimples  in  the  brownish  red  cheeks. 

"I  say,  may  I  come  in  ?"  she  repeated  with  a  laugh. 

"It  strikes  me  you  are  pretty  well  in,"  Norton  said 
good-humoredly. 

"Yes,  I  didn't  have  any  cards.  So  I  came  right  up. 
(It's  getting  dark  and  nobody  saw  me " 

The  editor  frowned  and  moved  uneasily 

"You're  alone,  aren't  you?"  she  asked. 

"The  others  have  all  gone  to  supper,  I  believe." 

"Yes,  I  waited  'til  they  left.  I  watched  from  the 
Square  'til  I  saw  them  go." 

"Why?"  he  asked  sharply. 

"I  don't  know.     I  reckon  I  was  afraid  of  'em." 

"And  you're  not  afraid  of  me?"  he  laughed. 

"No." 

"Why  not?" 

•"Because  I  know  you." 


CLEO   ENTERS 


Norton  smiled: 

"You  wish  to  see  me?" 

"Yes." 

"Is  there  anything  wrong  at  Mr.  Peeler's?" 

"No,  I  just  came  to  thank  you  for  what  you  did  and 
see  if  you  wouldn't  let  me  work  for  you?" 

"Work?    Where— here?" 

"Yes.  I  can  keep  the  place  clean.  My  mother  said 
it  was  awful.  And,  honest,  it's  worse  than  I  expected. 
It  doesn't  look  like  it's  been  cleaned  in  a  year." 

"I  don't  believe  it  has,"  the  editor  admitted. 

"Let  me  keep  it  decent  for  you." 

"Thanks,  no.  It  seems  more  home-like  this 
way." 

"Must  it  be  so  dirty?"  she  asked,  looking  about  the 
room  and  picking  up  the  scattered  papers  from  the 
floor. 

Norton,  watching  her  with  indulgent  amusement  at 
her  impudence,  saw  that  she  moved  her  young  form 
with  a  rhythmic  grace  that  was  perfect.  The  simple 
calico  dress,  with  a  dainty  little  check,  fitted  her  per 
fectly.  It  was  cut  low  and  square  at  the  neck  and 
showed  the  fine  lines  of  a  beautiful  throat.  Her  arms 
were  round  and  finely  shaped  and  bare  to  an  inch  above 
the  elbows.  The  body  above  the  waistline  was  slender, 
and  the  sinuous  free  movement  of  her  figure  showed 
that  she  wore  no  corset.  Her  step  was  as  light  as  a 
cat's  and  her  voice  full  of  good  humor  and  the  bubbling 
spirits  of  a  perfectly  healthy  female  animal. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  send  her  about  her  business 
with  a  word  of  dismissal.  But  when  she  laughed  it  was 
with  such  pleasant  assurance  and  such  faith  in  his 
friendliness  it  was  impossible  to  be  rude. 

33 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

She  picked  up  the  last  crumpled  paper  and  laid  it 
on  a  table  beside  the  wall,  turned  and  said  softly : 

"Well,  if  you  don't  want  me  to  clean  up  for  you, 
anyhow,  I  brought  you  some  flowers  for  your  room — 
they're  outside." 

She  darted  through  the  door  and  returned  in  a  mo 
ment  with  an  armful  of  roses. 

"My  mother  let  me  cut  them  from  our  yard,  and  she 
told  me  to  thank  you  for  coming  that  night.  They'd 
have  killed  us  if  you  hadn't  come." 

"Nonsense,  they  wouldn't  have  touched  either  you  or 
your  mother !" 

"Yes,  they  would,  too.  Goodness — haven't  you  any 
thing  to  put  the  flowers  in?" 

She  tipped  softly  about  the  room,  holding  the  roses 
up  and  arranging  them  gracefully. 

Norton  watched  her  with  a  lazy  amused  interest.  He 
couldn't  shake  off  the  impression  that  she  was  a  sleek 
young  animal,  playful  and  irresponsible,  that  had 
strayed  from  home  and  wandered  into  his  office.  And 
he  loved  animals.  He  never  passed  a  stray  dog  or  a 
cat  without  a  friendly  word  of  greeting.  He  had  often 
laid  on  his  lounge  at  home,  when  tired,  and  watched  a 
kitten  play  an  hour  with  unflagging  interest.  Every 
movement  of  this  girl's  lithe  young  body  suggested  such 
a  scene — especially  the  velvet  tread  of  her  light  foot, 
and  the  delicate  motions  of  her  figure  followed  suddenly 
by  a  sinuous  quick  turn  and  a  childish  laugh  or  cry. 
The  faint  shadows  of  negro  blood  in  her  creamy  skin 
and  the  purring  gentleness  of  her  voice  seemed  part  of 
the  gathering  twilight.  Her  eyes  were  apparently  twice 
the  size  as  when  first  he  saw  them,  and  the  pupils, 
dilated  in  the  dusk,  flashed  with  unusual  brilliance. 

84 


CLEG   ENTERS 


She  had  wandered  into  the  empty  reporters'  room 
without  permission  looking  for  a  vase,  came  back  and 
stood  in  the  doorway  laughing: 

"This  is  the  dirtiest  place  I  ever  got  into  in  my  life. 
Gracious !  Isn't  there  a  thing  to  put  the  flowers  in  ?" 

The  editor,  roused  from  his  reveries,  smiled  and  an 
swered  : 

"Put  them  in  the  pitcher." 

"Why,  yes,  of  course,  the  pitcher !"  she  cried,  rush 
ing  to  the  little  washstand. 

"Why,  there  isn't  a  drop  of  water  in  it — I'll  go  to 
the  well  and  get  some." 

She  seized  the  pitcher,  laid  the  flowers  down  in  the 
bowl,  darted  out  the  door  and  flew  across  the  street  to 
the  well  in  the  Court  House  Square. 

The  young  editor  walked  carelessly  to  the  window 
and  watched  her.  She  simply  couldn't  get  into  an  un 
graceful  attitude.  Every  movement  was  instinct  with 
vitality.  She  was  alive  to  her  finger  tips.  Her  body 
swayed  in  perfect  rhythmic  unison  with  her  round,  bare 
arms  as  she  turned  the  old-fashioned  rope  windlass, 
drew  the  bucket  to  the  top  and  dropped  it  easily  on 
the  wet  wooden  lids  that  flapped  back  in  place. 

She  was  singing  now  a  crooning,  half-savage  melody 
her  mother  had  taught  her.  The  low  vibrant  notes  of 
her  voice,  deep  and  tender  and  quivering  with  a  strange 
intensity,  floated  across  the  street  through  the  gather 
ing  shadows.  The  voice  had  none  of  the  light  girlish 
quality  of  her  age  of  eighteen,  but  rather  the  full  pas 
sionate  power  of  a  woman  of  twenty-five.  The  dis 
tance,  the  deepening  shadows  and  the  quiet  of  the 
town's  lazy  life,  added  to  the  dreamy  effectiveness  of 
the  song. 

35 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

"Beautiful!"  the  man  exclaimed.  "The  negro  race 
will  give  the  world  a  great  singer  some  day " 

And  then  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  the  paradox  of 
his  personal  attitude  toward  this  girl  and  his  attitude 
in  politics  toward  the  black  race  struck  him  as  curious. 
He  had  just  finished  an  editorial  in  which  he  had  met 
the  aggressions  of  the  negro  and  his  allies  with  the  fury, 
the  scorn,  the  defiance,  the  unyielding  ferocity  with 
which  the  Anglo-Saxon  conqueror  has  always  treated  his 
inferiors.  And  yet  he  was  listening  to  the  soft  tones  of 
this  girl's  voice  with  a  smile  as  he  watched  with  good- 
natured  indulgence  the  light  gleam  mischievously  from 
her  impudent  big  eyes  while  she  moved  about  his 
room. 

Yet  this  was  not  to  be  wondered  at.  The  history  of 
the  South  and  the  history  of  slavery  made  such  a  para 
dox  inevitable.  The  long  association  with  the  individual 
negro  in  the  intimacy  of  home  life  had  broken  down 
the  barriers  of  personal  race  repugnance.  He  had 
grown  up  with  negro  boys  and  girls  as  playmates.  He 
had  romped  and  wrestled  with  them.  Every  servant  in 
every  home  he  had  ever  known  had  been  a  negro.  The 
first  human  face  he  remembered  bending  over  his  cradle 
was  a  negro  woman's.  He  had  fallen  asleep  in  her  arms 
times  without  number.  He  had  found  refuge  there  againsc 
his  mother's  stern  commands  and  sobbed  out  on  her 
breast  the  story  of  his  fancied  wrongs  and  always  found 
consolation.  "Mammy's  darlin'  "  was  always  right — 
the  world  cruel  and  wrong!  He  had  loved  this  old 
nurse  since  he  could  remember.  She  was  now  nursing 
his  own  and  he  would  defend  her  with  his  life  with 
out  a  moment's  hesitation. 

And  so  it  came  about  inevitably  that  while  he  had 

36 


CLEO   ENTERS 


swung  his  white  and  scarlet  legions  of  disguised  Clans 
men  in  solid  line  against  the  Governor  and  smashed  his 
negro  army  without  the  loss  of  a  single  life,  he  was  at 
the  same  moment  proving  himself  defenseless  against 
the  silent  and  deadly  purpose  that  had  already  shaped 
itself  in  the  soul  of  this  sleek,  sensuous  young  animal. 
He  was  actually  smiling  with  admiration  at  the  beauti 
ful  picture  he  saw  as  she  lifted  the  white  pitcher,  placed 
it  on  the  crown  of  red  hair,  and  crossed  the  street. 

She  was  still  softly  singing  as  she  entered  the  room 
and  arranged  the  flowers  in  pretty  confusion. 

Norton  had  lighted  his  lamp  and  seated  himself  at 
his  desk  again.  She  came  close  and  looked  over  his 
shoulder  at  the  piles  of  papers. 

"How  on  earth  can  you  work  in  such  a  mess?"  she 
asked  with  a  laugh. 

"Used  to  it,"  he  answered  without  looking  up  from 
the  final  reading  of  his  editorial. 

"What's  that  you've  written?" 

The  impudent  greenish  gray  eyes  bent  closer. 

"Oh,  a  little  talk  to  the  Governor " 

"I  bet  it's  a  hot  one.  Peeler  says  you  don't  like  the 
Governor — read  it  to  me!" 

The  editor  looked  up  at  the  mischievous  young  face 
and  laughed  aloud: 

"I'm  afraid  you  wouldn't  understand  it." 

The  girl  joined  in  the  laugh  and  the  dimples  in  the 
reddish  brown  cheeks  looked  prettier  than  ever. 

"Maybe  I  wouldn't,"  she  agreed. 

He  resumed  his  reading  and  she  leaned  over  his  chair 
until  he  felt  the  soft  touch  of  her  shoulder  against  his. 
She  was  staring  at  his  paste-pot,  extended  her  tapering, 
creamy  finger  and  touched  the  paste. 

37 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"What  in  the  world's  that?"  she  cried,  giggling 
again. 

"Paste." 

Another  peal  of  silly  laughter  echoed  through  the 
room. 

"Lord,  I  thought  it  was  mush  and  milk — I  thought  it 
was  your  supper! — don't  you  eat  no  supper?" 

"Sometimes." 

The  editor  looked  up  with  a  slight  frown  and  said : 

"Run  along  now,  child,  I've  got  to  work.  And  tell 
your  mother  I'm  obliged  for  the  flowers." 

"I'm  not  going  back  home " 

"Why  not?" 

"I'm  scared  out  there.  I've  come  in  town  to  live  with 
my  aunt." 

"Well,  tell  her  when  you  see  her." 

"Please  let  me  clean  this  place  up  for  you?"  she 
pleaded. 

"Not  to-night." 

"To-morrow  morning,  then?  I'll  come  early  and 
every  morning — please — let  me — it's  all  I  can  do  to 
thank  you.  I'll  do  it  a  month  just  to  show  you  how 
pretty  I  can  keep  it  and  then  you  can  pay  me  if  you 
want  me.  It's  a  bargain,  isn't  it?" 

The  editor  smiled,  hesitated,  and  said: 

"All  right — every  morning  at  seven." 

"Thank  you,  major — good  night!" 

She  paused  at  the  door  and  her  white  teeth  gleamed 
in  the  shadows.  She  turned  and  tripped  down  the 
stairs,  humming  again  the  strangely  appealing  song  she 
had  sung  at  the  well. 


38 


CHAPTER  III 

A   BEAST    AWAKES 

WITHIN  a  week  Norton  bitterly  regretted  the  ar 
rangement  he  had  made  with  Cleo.  Not  because  she  had 
failed  to  do  her  work  properly,  but  precisely  because 
she  was  doing  it  so  well.  She  had  apparently  made  it  the 
sole  object  of  her  daily  thought  and  the  only  task  to 
which  she  devoted  her  time. 

He  couldn't  accustom  his  mind  to  the  extraordinary 
neatness  with  which  she  kept  the  office.  The  clean  floor, 
the  careful  arrangement  of  the  chairs,  the  neat  piles  of 
exchanges  laid  on  a  table  she  had  placed  beside  his 
desk,  and  the  vase  of  fresh  flowers  he  found  each  morn 
ing,  were  constant  reminders  of  her  personality  which 
piqued  his  curiosity  and  disturbed  his  poise. 

He  had  told  her  to  come  at  seven  every  morning.  It 
was  his  habit  to  reach  the  office  and  begin  reading  the 
exchanges  by  eight-thirty  and  he  had  not  expected  to 
encounter  her  there.  She  had  always  managed,  how 
ever,  to  linger  over  her  morning  tasks  until  his  arrival, 
and  never  failed  to  greet  him  pleasantly  and- ask  if  there 
were  anything  else  she  could  do.  She  also  insisted  on 
coming  at  noon  to  fill  his  pitcher  and  again  just  before 
supper  to  change  the  water  in  the  vase  of  flowers. 

At  this  last  call  she  always  tried  to  engage  him  in  a 
few  words  of  small  talk.  At  first  this  program  made 
no  impression  on  his  busy  brain  except  that  she  was 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

trying  to  prove  her  value  as  a  servant.  Gradually, 
however,  he  began  to  notice  that  her  dresses  were  cut 
with  remarkable  neatness  for  a  girl  of  her  position  and 
that  she  showed  a  rare  talent  in  selecting  materials  be 
coming  to  her  creamy  yellow  skin  and  curling  red 
hair. 

He  observed,  too,  that  she  had  acquired  the  habit 
of  hanging  about  his  desk  when  finishing  her  tasks  and 
had  a  queer  way  of  looking  at  him  and  laughing. 

She  began  to  make  him  decidedly  uncomfortable  and 
he  treated  her  with  indifference.  No  matter  how  sullen 
the  scowl  with  which  he  greeted  her,  she  was  alwa}7s 
smiling  and  humming  snatches  of  strange  songs.  He 
sought  for  an  excuse  to  discharge  her  and  could  find 
none.  She  had  the  instincts  of  a  perfect  servant — in 
telligent,  careful  and  loyal.  She  never  blundered  over 
the  papers  on  his  desk.  She  seemed  to  know  instinc 
tively  what  was  worthless  and  what  was  valuable,  and 
never  made  a  mistake  in  rearranging  the  chaotic  piles 
of  stuff  he  left  in  his  wake. 

He  thought  once  for  just  a  moment  of  the  possibility 
of  her  loyalty  to  the  negro  race.  She  might  in  that  case 
prove  a  valuable  spy  to  the  Governor  and  his  allies. 
He  dismissed  the  idea  as  preposterous.  She  never  asso 
ciated  with  negroes  if  she  could  help  it  and  apparently 
was  as  innocent  as  a  babe  of  the  nature  of  the  terrific 
struggle  in  which  he  was  engaged  with  the  negroid  gov 
ernment  of  the  state. 

And  yet  she  disturbed  him  deeply  and  continuously, 
as  deeply  sometimes  when  absent  as  when  present. 

Why? 

He  asked  himself  the  question  again  and  again.  Why 
should  he  dislike  her?  She  did  her  work  promptly  and 

40 


A  BEAST  AWAKES 


efficiently,  and  for  the  first  time  within  his  memory  the 
building  was  really  fit  for  human  habitation. 

At  last  he  guessed  the  truth  and  it  precipitated  the 
first  battle  of  his  life  with  the  beast  that  slumbered 
'  within.  Feeling  her  physical  nearness  more  acutely 
than  usual  at  dusk  and  noting  that  she  had  paused  in 
her  task  near  his  desk,  he  slowly  lifted  his  eyes  from  the 
paper  he  was  reading  and,  before  she  realized  it,  caught 
the  look  on  her  face  when  off  guard.  The  girl  was 
in  love  with  him.  It  was  as  clear  as  day  now  that  he 
had  the  key  to  her  actions  the  past  week.  For  this  rea 
son  she  had  come  and  for  this  reason  she  was  working 
with  such  patience  and  skill. 

His  first  impulse  was  one  of  rage.  He  had  little  of 
the  vanity  of  the  male  animal  that  struts  before  the 
female.  His  pet  aversion  was  the  man  of  his  class  who 
lowered  himself  to  vulgar  association  with  such  girls. 
The  fact  that,  at  this  time  in  the  history  of  the  South, 
such  intrigues  were  common  made  his  determination  all 
the  more  bitter  as  a  leader  of  his  race  to  stand  for  its 
purity. 

He  suddenly  swung  in  his  chair,  determined  to  dismiss 
her  at  once  with  as  few  words  as  possible. 

She  leaped  gracefully  back  with  a  girlish  laugh,  so 
soft,  low  and  full  of  innocent  surprise,  the  harsh  words 
died  on  his  lips. 

"Lordy,  major,"  she  cried,  "how  you  scared  me!  I 
thought  you  had  a  fit.  Did  a  pin  stick  you — or  maybe 
a  flea  bit  you  ?" 

She  leaned  against  the  mantel  laughing,  her  white 
teeth  gleaming. 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  his  eyes  lingered  on  the  grace 
ful  pose  of  her  young  figure,  his  ear  caught  the  soft 

41 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

note  of  friendly  tenderness  in  her  voice  and  he  was 
silent. 

"What's  the  matter?"  she  asked,  stepping  closer. 

"Nothing." 

"Well,  you  made  an  awful  fuss  about  it !" 

"Just  thought  of  something — suddenly " 

"I  thought  you  were  going  to  bite  my  head  off  and 
then  that  something  bit  you!" 

Again  she  laughed  and  walked  slowly  to  the  door,  her 
greenish  eyes  watching  him  with  studied  carelessness,  as 
a  cat  a  mouse.  Every  movement  of  her  figure  was 
music,  her  smile  contagious,  and,  by  a  subtle  mental 
telepathy,  she  knew  that  the  man  before  her  felt  it,  and 
her  heart  was  singing  a  savage  song  of  triumph.  She 
could  wait.  She  had  everything  to  gain  and  nothing  to 
lose.  She  belonged  to  the  pariah  world  of  the  Negro. 
Her  love  was  patient,  joyous,  insistent,  unconquerable. 

It  was  unusually  joyous  to-night  because  she  felt 
without  words  that  the  mad  desires  that  burned  a  living 
fire  in  every  nerve  of  her  young  body  had  scorched 
the  man  she  had  marked  her  own  from  the  moment  she 
had  first  laid  eyes  on  his  serious,  aristocratic  face — for 
back  of  every  hysterical  cry  that  came  from  her  lips 
that  night  in  the  shadows  beside  old  Peeler's  house  lay 
the  sinister  purpose  of  a  mad  love  that  had  leaped  full 
grown  from  the  deeps  of  her  powerful  animal  nature. 

She  paused  in  the  doorway  and  softly  said: 

"Good  night." 

The  tone  of  her  voice  was  a  caress  and  the  bold  eyes 
laughed  a  daring  challenge  straight  into  his. 

He  stared  at  her  a  moment,  flushed,  turned  pale  and 
answered  in  a  strained  voice: 

"Good  night,  Cleo." 


A   BEAST  AWAKES 


But  it  was  not  a  good  night  for  him.  It  was  a  night 
never  to  be  forgotten.  Until  after  twelve  he  walked  be 
neath  the  stars  and  fought  the  Beast — the  Beast  with  a 
thousand  heads  and  a  thousand  legs ;  the  Beast  that  had 
been  bred  in  the  bone  and  sinew  of  generations  of  ances 
tors,  wilful,  cruel,  courageous  conquerors  of  the  world. 
Before  its  ravenous  demands  the  words  of  mother, 
teacher,  priest  and  lawgiver  were  as  chaff  before  the 
whirlwind — the  Beast  demanded  his  own!  Peace  came 
at  last  with  the  vision  of  a  baby's  laughing  face  peeping 
at  him  from  the  arms  of  a  frail  little  mother. 

He  made  up  his  mind  and  hurried  home.  He  would 
get  rid  of  this  girl  to-morrow  and  never  again  permit 
her  shadow  to  cross  his  pathway.  With  other  men  of 
more  sluggish  temperament,  position,  dignity,  the  re 
sponsibility  of  leadership,  the  restraints  of  home  and 
religion  might  be  the  guarantee  of  safety  under  such 
temptations.  He  didn't  propose  to  risk  it.  He  under 
stood  now  why  he  was  so  nervous  and  distracted  in  her 
presence.  The  mere  physical  proximity  to  such  a  crea 
ture,  vital,  magnetic,  unmoral,  beautiful  and  daring, 
could  only  mean  one  thing  to  a  man  of  his  age  and  in 
heritance — a  temptation  so  fierce  that  yielding  could 
only  be  a  question  of  time  and  opportunity. 

And  when  he  told  her  the  next  morning  that  she  must 
not  come  again  she  was  not  surprised,  but  accepted  his 
dismissal  without  a  word  of  protest. 

With  a  look  of  tenderness  she  merely  said: 

"I'm  sorry." 

"Yes,"  he  went  on  curtly,  "you  annoy  me;  I  can't 
write  while  you  are  puttering  around,  and  I'm  always 
afraid  you'll  disturb  some  of  my  papers." 

She  laughed  in  his  face,  a  joyous,  impudent,  good- 
43 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

natured,   ridiculous   laugh,   that   said   more  eloquently 
than  words : 

"I  understand  your  silly  excuse.  You're  afraid  of 
me.  You're  a  big  coward.  Don't  worry,  I  can  wait. 
You'll  come  to  me.  And  if  not,  I'll  find  you — for  I 
shall  be  near — and  now  that  you  know  and  fear,  I  shall 
be  very  near!" 

She  moved  shyly  to  the  door  and  stood  framed  in  its 
white  woodwork,  an  appealing  picture  of  dumb  regret. 

She  had  anticipated  this  from  the  first.  And  from 
the  moment  she  threw  the  challenge  into  his  eyes  the 
night  before,  saw  him  flush  and  pale  beneath  it,  she 
knew  it  must  come  at  once,  and  was  prepared.  There 
was  no  use  to  plead  and  beg  or  argue.  It  would  be  a 
waste  of  breath  with  him  in  this  mood. 

Besides,  she  had  already  found  a  better  plan. 

So  when  he  began  to  try  to  soften  his  harsh  decision 
with  kindly  words  she  only  smiled  in  the  friendliest  pos 
sible  way,  stepped  back  to  his  desk,  extended  her  hand, 
and  said: 

"Please  let  me  know  if  you  need  me.  I'll  do  anything 
on  earth  for  you,  major.  Good-by." 

It  was  impossible  to  refuse  the  gracefully  out 
stretched  hand.  The  Southern  man  had  been  bred  from  * 
the  cradle  to  the  most  intimate  and  friendly  personal 
relations  with  the  black  folks  who  were  servants  in  the 
house.  Yet  the  moment  he  touched  her  hand,  felt  its 
soft  warm  pressure  and  looked  into  the  depths  of  her 
shining  eyes  he  wished  that  he  had  sent  her  away  with 
downright  rudeness. 

But  it  was  impossible  to  be  rude  with  this  beautiful 
young  animal  that  purred  at  his  side.  He  started  to 
say  something  harsh,  she  laughed  and  he  laughed. 

44 


A   BEAST   AWAKES 


She  held  his  hand  clasped  in  hers  for  a  moment  and 
slowly  said: 

"I  haven't  done  anything  wrong,  have  I,  major?" 

"No." 

"You  are  not  mad  at  me  for  anything?" 

"No,  certainly  not." 

"I  wonder  why  you  won't  let  me  work  here?" 

She  looked  about  the  room  and  back  at  him,  speaking 
slowly,  musingly,  with  an  impudence  that  left  little 
doubt  in  his  mind  that  she  suspected  the  real  reason  and 
was  deliberately  trying  to  tease  him. 

He  flushed,  hurriedly  withdrew  his  hand  and  replied 
carelessly : 

"You  bother  me — can't  work  when  you're  fooling 
around." 

"All  right,  good-bye." 

He  turned  to  his  work  and  she  was  gone.  He  was 
glad  she  was  out  of  his  sight  and  out  of  his  life  for 
ever.  He  had  been  a  fool  to  allow  her  in  the  building 
at  all. 

He  could  concentrate  his  mind  now  on  his  fight  with 
the  Governor. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  ARREST 

THE  time  had  come  in  Norton's  fight  when  he  was 
about  to  be  put  to  a  supreme  test. 

The  Governor  was  preparing  the  most  daring  and 
sensational  movement  of  his  never-to-be-forgotten  ad 
ministration.  The  audacity  and  thoroughness  with 
which  the  Klan  had  disarmed  and  made  ridiculous  his 
army  of  fifty  thousand  negroes  was  at  first  a  stunning 
blow.  In  vain  Schlitz  stormed  and  pleaded  for  National 
aid. 

"You  must  ask  for  Federal  troops  without  a  mo 
ment's   delay,"  he  urged  desperately. 
The  Scalawag  shook  his  head  with  quiet  determination. 

"Congress,  under  the  iron  rule  of  Stevens,  will  send 
them,  I  grant  you " 

"Then  why  hesitate?" 

"Because  their  coming  would  mean  that  I  have  been 
defeated  on  my  own  soil,  that  my  administration  of  the 
state  is  a  failure." 

"Well,  isn't  it?" 

"No ;  I'll  make  good  my  promises  to  the  men  in 
Washington  who  have  backed  me.  They  are  preparing 
to  impeach  the  President,  remove  him  from  office  and 
appoint  a  dictator  in  his  stead.  I'll  show  them  that  I 
can  play  my  part  in  the  big  drama,  too.  I  am  going 
to  deliver  this  state  bound  hand  and  foot  into  their 


THE   ARREST 


hands,  with  a  triumphant  negro  electorate  in  the  sad 
dle,  or  I'll  go  down  in  ignominious  defeat." 

"You'll  go  down,  all  right — without  those  troops — 
mark  my  word,"  cried  the  Carpetbagger. 

"All  right,  I'll  go  down  flying  my  own  flag." 

"You're  a  fool!"  Schlitz  roared.  "Union  troops  are 
our  only  hope!" 

His  Excellency  kept  his  temper.  The  little  ferret 
eyes  beneath  their  bushy  brows  were  drawn  to  narrow 
lines  as  he  slowly  said: 

"On  the  other  hand,  my  dear  Schlitz,  I  don't  think  I 
could  depend  on  Federal  troops  if  they  were  here." 

"No?"  was  the  indignant  sneer. 

"Frankly  I  do  not,"  was  the  even  answer.  "Federal 
officers  have  not  shown  themselves  very  keen  about  ex 
ecuting  the  orders  of  Reconstruction  Governors.  They 
have  often  pretended  to  execute  them  and  in  reality 
treated  us  with  contempt.  They  hold,  in  brief,  that  they 
fought  to  preserve  the  Union,  not  to  make  negroes  rule 
over  white  men !  The  task  before  us  is  not  to  their 
liking.  I  don't  trust  them  for  a  moment.  I  have  a  bet 
ter  plan " 

"What?" 

"I  propose  to  raise  immediately  an  army  of  fifty 
thousand  loyal  white  men,  arm  and  drill  them  without 
delay " 

"Where'll  you  get  them?"  Schlitz  cried  incredulously. 

"I'll  find  them  if  I  have  to  drag  the  gutters  for  every 
poor  white  scamp  in  the  state.  They'll  be  a  tough  lot, 
maybe,  but  they'll  make  good  soldiers.  A  soldier  is  a 
man  who  obeys  orders,  draws  his  pay,  and  asks  no  ques 
tions " 

"And  then  what?" 

47 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

"And  then,  sir! " 

The  Governor's  leathery  little  face  flushed  as  he 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  paced  the  floor  of  his  office  in 
intense  excitement. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  then !"  Schlitz  cried  with  scorn. 

The  pacing  figure  paused  and  eyed  his  tormentor, 
lifting  his  shaggy  brows : 

"Yes?" 

"And  then,"  the  Carpetbagger  answered,  "the  Ku 
Klux  Klan  will  rise  in  a  night,  jump  on  your  mob  of 
ragamuffins,  take  their  guns  and  kick  them  back  into 
the  gutter." 

"Perhaps,"  the  Governor  said,  musingly,  "if  I  give 
them  a  chance !  But  I  won't !" 

"You  won't?     How  can  you  prevent  it?" 

"Very  simply.  I'll  issue  a  proclamation  suspending 
the  writ  of  habeas  corpus " 

"But  you  have  no  right,"  Schlitz  gasped.  The  ex- 
scullion  had  been  studying  law  the  past  two  years  and 
aspired  to  the  Supreme  Court  bench. 

"My  right  is  doubtful,  but  it  will  go  in  times  of  rev 
olution.  I'll  suspend  the  writ,  arrest  the  leaders  of  the 
Klan  without  warrant,  put  them  in  jail  and  hold  them 
there  without  trial  until  the  day  after  the  election." 

Schlitz's  eyes  danced  as  he  sprang  forward  and  ex 
tended  his  fat  hand  to  the  Scalawag: 

"Governor,  you're  a  great  man !  Only  a  great  mind 
would  dare  such  a  plan.  But  do  you  think  your  life 
will  be  safe?" 

The  little  figure  was  drawn  erect  and  the  ferret  eyes 
flashed : 

"The  Governor  of  a  mighty  commonwealth — they 
wouldn't  dare  lift  their  little  finger  against  me." 

48 


THE   ARREST 


Schlitz  shook  his  head  dubiously. 

"A  pretty  big  job  in  times  of  peace — to  suspend  the 
civil  law,  order  wholesale  arrests  without  warrants  by 
a  ragged  militia  and  hold  your  men  without  trial " 

"I  like  the  job!"  was  the  quick  answer.  "I'm  going 
to  show  the  smart  young  man  who  edits  the  paper  in 
this  town  that  he  isn't  running  the  universe." 

Again  the  adventurer  seized  the  hand  of  his  chief : 

"Governor,  you're  a  great  man!  I  take  my  hat  off 
to  you,  sir." 

His  Excellency  smiled,  lifted  his  sloping  shoulders, 
moistened  his  thin  lips  and  whispered: 

"Not  a  word  now  to  a  living  soul  until  I  strike " 

"I  understand,  sir,  not  a  word,"  the  Carpetbagger 
replied  in  low  tones  as  he  nervously  fumbled  his  hat 
and  edged  his  way  out  of  the  room. 

The  editor  received  the  Governor's  first  move  in  the 
game  with  contempt.  It  was  exactly  what  he  had  ex 
pected — this  organization  of  white  renegades,  thieves, 
loafers,  cut-throats,  and  deserters.  It  was  the  last  re 
sort  of  desperation.  Every  day,  while  these  dirty  ig 
norant  recruits  were  being  organized  and  drilled,  he 
1  taunted  the  Governor  over  the  personnel  of  his  "Loyal" 
army.  He  began  the  publication  of  the  history  of  its 
officers  and  men.  These  biographical  stories  were  writ 
ten  with  a  droll  humor  that  kept  the  whole  state  in  a 
good-humored  ripple  of  laughter  and  inspired  the  con 
vention  that  nominated  a  complete  white  man's  ticket 
to  renewed  enthusiasm. 

And  then  the  bolt  from  the  blue — the  Governor's  act 
of  supreme  madness ! 

As  the  editor  sat  at  his  desk  writing  an  editorial  con 
gratulating  the  state  on  the  brilliant  ticket  that  the 

49 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

white  race  had  nominated  and  predicting  its  triumphant 
election,  in  spite  of  negroes,  thieves,  cut-throats,  Scala 
wags  and  Carpetbaggers,  a  sudden  commotion  on  the 
sidewalk  in  front  of  his  office  stopped  his  pencil  in  the 
midst  of  an  unfinished  word. 

He  walked  to  the  window  and  looked  out.  By  the 
flickering  light  of  the  street  lamp  he  saw  an  excited 
crowd  gathering  in  the  street. 

A  company  of  the  Governor's  new  guard  had  halted 
in  front.  An  officer  ripped  off  the  palings  from  the 
picket  fence  beside  the  building  and  sent  a  squad  of  his 
men  to  the  rear. 

The  tramp  of  heavy  feet  on  the  stairs  was  heard  and 
the  dirty  troopers  crowded  into  the  editor's  room,  mus 
kets  in  hand,  cocked,  and  their  fingers  on  the  triggers. 

Norton  quietly  drew  the  pencil  from  his  ear,  smiled 
at  the  mottled  group  of  excited  men,  and  spoke  in  his 
slow  drawl: 

"And  why  this  excitement,  gentlemen?" 

The  captain  stepped  forward: 

"Are  you  Major  Daniel  Norton?" 

"I  am,  sir." 

"You're  my  prisoner." 

"Show  your  warrant!"  was  the  quick  challenge. 

"I  don't  need  one,  sir." 

"Indeed !  And  since  when  is  this  state  under  martial 
law?" 

"Will  you  go  peaceable?"  the  captain  asked  roughly. 

"When  I  know  by  whose  authority  you  make  this 
arrest." 

The  editor  walked  close  to  the  officer,  drew  himself 
erect,  his  hands  clenched  behind  his  back  and  held 
the  man's  eye  for  a  moment  with  a  cold  stare. 

50 


THE  'ARREST 


The  captain  hesitated  and  drew  a  document  from  his 
pocket. 

The  editor  scanned  it  hastily  and  suddenly  turned 
pale: 

"A  proclamation  suspending  the  writ  of  habeas  cor- 
pus — impossible !" 

The  captain  lifted  his  dirty  palms : 

"I  reckon  you  can  read !" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  can  read  it,  captain — still  it's  impossible. 
You  can't  suspend  the  law  of  gravitation  by  saying  so 
on  a  scrap  of  paper " 

"You  are  ready  to  go?" 

The  editor  laughed: 

"Certainly,  certainly — with  pleasure,  I  assure  you." 

The  captain  lifted  his  hand  and  his  men  lowered  their 
guns.  The  editor  seized  a  number  of  blank  writing 
pads,  a  box  of  pencils,  put  on  his  hat  and  called  to  his 
assistants : 

"I'm  moving  my  office  temporarily  to  the  county  jail, 
boys.  It's  quieter  over  there.  I  can  do  better  work. 
Send  word  to  my  home  that  I'm  all  right  and  tell  my 
wife  not  to  worry  for  a  minute.  Every  man  to  his  post 
now  and  the  liveliest  paper  ever  issued!  And  on  time 
to  the  minute." 

The  printers  had  crowded  into  the  room  and  a  ring 
ing  cheer  suddenly  startled  the  troopers. 

The  foreman  held  an  ugly  piece  of  steel  in  his  hand 
and  every  man  seemed  to  have  hold  of  something. 

"Give  the  word,  chief!"  the  foreman  cried. 

The  editor  smiled: 

"Thanks,  boys,  I  understand.  Go  back  to  your 
work.  You  can  help  best  that  way." 

The  men  dropped  their  weapons  and  crowded  to  the 

51 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

door,  jeering  and  howling  in  derision  at  the  awkward 
squad  as  they  stumbled  down  the  stairs  after  their 
commander,  who  left  the  building  holding  tightly  to  the 
editor's  arm,  as  if  at  any  moment  he  expected  an 
escape  or  a  rescue. 

The  procession  wended  its  way  to  the  jail  behind  the 
Court  House  through  a  crowd  of  silent  men  who  merely 
looked  at  the  prisoner,  smiled  and  nodded  to  him  over 
the  heads  of  his  guard. 

An  ominous  quiet  followed  the  day's  work.  The  Gov 
ernor  was  amazed  at  the  way  his  sensational  coup  was 
received.  He  had  arrested  and  thrown  into  jail  with 
out  warrant  the  leaders  of  the  white  party  in  every 
county  in  the  state.  He  was  absolutely  sure  that  these 
men  were  the  leaders  of  the  Ku  Klux  Klan,  the  one 
invisible  but  terrible  foe  he  really  feared. 

He  had  expected  bluster,  protests,  mass  meetings  and 
fiery  resolutions.  Instead  his  act  was  received  with  a 
silence  that  was  uncanny.  In  vain  his  Carpetbagger 
lieutenant  congratulated  him  on  the  success  of  his  Na 
poleonic  move. 

His  little  ferret  eyes  snapped  with  suppressed  excite 
ment. 

"But  what  the  devil  is  the  meaning  of  this  silence, 
Schlitz?"  he  asked  with  a  tremor. 

"They're  stunned,  I  tell  you.  It  was  a  master  stroke. 
They're  a  lot  of  cowards  and  sneaks,  these  night  raiders, 
anyhow.  It  only  took  a  bold  act  of  authority  to  throw 
them  into  a  panic." 

The  Scalawag  shook  his  head  thoughtfully: 

"Doesn't  look  like  a  panic  to  me — I'm  uneasy " 

"The  only  possible  mistake  you've  made  was  the  ar 
rest  of  Norton." 


THE  ARREST 


"Yes,  I  know  public  sentiment  in  the  North  don't 
like  an  attempt  to  suppress  free  speech,  but  I  simply 
had  to  do  it.  Damn  him,  I've  stood  his  abuse  as  long 
as  I'm  going  to.  Besides  his  dirty  sheet  is  at  the  bot 
tom  of  all  our  trouble." 

When  the  Governor  scanned  his  copy  of  the  next 
morning's  Eagle  and  Phoenix  his  feeling  of  uneasiness 
increased. 

Instead  of  the  personal  abuse  he  had  expected  from 
the  young  firebrand,  he  read  a  long,  carefully  written 
editorial  reviewing  the  history  of  the  great  writ  of 
habeas  corpus  in  the  evolution  of  human  freedom.  The 
essay  closed  with  the  significant  statement  that  no  Gov 
ernor  in  the  records  of  the  state  or  the  colony  had  ever 
dared  to  repeal  or  suspend  this  guarantee  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  liberty — not  even  for  a  moment  during  the  chaos 
of  the  Civil  War. 

But  the  most  disquieting  feature  of  this  editorial  was 
the  suggestive  fact  that  it  was  set  between  heavy  mourn 
ing  lines  and  at  the  bottom  of  it  stood  a  brief  paragraph 
enclosed  in  even  heavier  black  bands: 

"We  regret  to  announce  that  the  state  is  at  present  with 
out  a  chief  executive.  Our  late  unlamented  Governor 
passed  away  in  a  fit  of  insanity  at  three  o'clock  yesterday/' 

When  the  little  Scalawag  read  the  sarcastic  obituary 
he  paled  for  a  moment  and  the  hand  which  held  the 
paper  trembled  so  violently  he  was  compelled  to  lay  it 
on  the  table  to  prevent  his  secretary  from  noting  his 
excitement. 

For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  state  an  armed 
guard  was  stationed  at  the  door  of  the  Governor's  man 
sion  that  night. 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

The  strange  calm  continued.  No  move  was  made  by 
the  negroid  government  to  bring  the  imprisoned  men 
to  trial  and  apparently  no  effort  was  being  made  by  the 
men  inside  the  jails  to  regain  their  liberty. 

Save  that  his  editorials  were  dated  from  the  county 
jail,  no  change  had  occurred  in  the  daily  routine  of 
the  editor's  life.  He  continued  his  series  of  articles 
on  the  history  of  the  state  each  day,  setting  them  in 
heavy  black  mourning  lines.  Each  of  these  editorials 
ended  with  an  appeal  to  the  patriotism  of  the  reader. 
And  the  way  in  which  he  told  the  simple  story  of  each 
step  achieved  in  the  blood-marked  struggle  for  liberty 
had  a  punch  in  it  that  boded  ill  for  the  little  man  who 
had  set  himself  the  task  of  dictatorship  for  a  free  peo 
ple. 

No  reference  was  made  in  the  Eagle  and  Phoenix  to 
the  Governor.  He  was  dead.  The  paper  ignored  his 
existence.  Each  day  of  this  ominous  peace  among  his 
enemies  increased  the  terror  which  had  gripped  the  lit 
tle  Scalawag  from  the  morning  he  had  read  his  first 
obituary.  The  big  black  rules  down  the  sides  of  those 
editorials  seemed  a  foot  wide  now  when  he  read 
them. 

Twice  he  seated  himself  at  his  desk  to  order  the  edi 
tor's  release  and  each  time  cringed  and  paused  at  the 
thought  of  the  sneers  with  which  his  act  would  be 
greeted.  He  was  now  between  the  devil  and  the  deep 
sea.  He  was  afraid  to  retreat  and  dared  not  take  the 
next  step  forward.  If  he  could  hold  his  ground  for 
two  weeks  longer,  and  carry  the  election  by  the  over 
whelming  majority  he  had  planned,  all  would  be  well. 
Such  a  victory,  placing  him  in  power  for  four  years  and 
giving  him  an  obedient  negro  Legislature  once  more  to 

54 


THE   ARREST 


do  his  bidding,  would  strike  terror  to  his  foes  and  silence 
their  assaults.  The  negro  voters  far  outnumbered  the 
whites,  and  victory  was  a  certainty.  And  so  he  held  his 
ground — until  something  happened ! 

It  began  in  a  semi-tropical  rain  storm  that  swept 
the  state.  All  day  it  poured  in  blinding  torrents,  the 
wind  steadily  rising  in  velocity  until  at  noon  it  was 
scarcely  possible  to  walk  the  streets. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  rain  ceased  to  fall  and  by  nine 
glimpses  of  the  moon  could  be  seen  as  the  fast  flying 
clouds  parted  for  a  moment.  But  for  these  occasional 
flashes  of  moonlight  the  night  was  pitch  dark.  The 
Governor's  company  of  nondescript  soldiers  in  camp 
at  the  Capitol,  drenched  with  rain,  had  abandoned  their 
water-soaked  tents  for  the  more  congenial  atmosphere 
of  the  low  dives  and  saloons  of  the  negro  quarters. 

The  minute  the  rain  ceased  to  fall,  Norton's  wife  sent 
his  supper — but  to-night  by  a  new  messenger.  Cleo 
smiled  at  him  across  the  little  table  as  she  skillfully  laid 
the  cloth,  placed  the  dishes  and  set  a  tiny  vase  of 
roses  in  the  center. 

"You  see,"  she  began,  smiling,  "your  wife  needed  me 
and  I'm  working  at  your  house  now,  major." 

"Indeed!" 

"Yes.  Mammy  isn't  well  and  I  help  with  the  baby. 
He's  a  darling.  He  loved  me  the  minute  I  took  him  in 
my  arms  and  hugged  him." 

"No  doubt." 

"His  little  mother  likes  me,  too.  I  can  pick  her  up 
in  my  arms  and  carry  her  across  the  room.  You 
wouldn't  think  I'm  so  strong,  would  you?" 

"Yes — I  would,"  he  answered  slowly,  studying  her 
with  a  look  of  increasing  wonder  at  her  audacity. 

55 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"You're  not  mad  at  me  for  being  there,  are  you? 
You  can't  be — mammy  wants  me  so" — she  paused — 
"Lordy,  I  forgot  the  letter !" 

She  drew  from  her  bosom  a  note  from  his  wife.  He 
looked  curiously  at  a  smudge  where  it  was  sealed  and, 
glancing  at  the  girl  who  was  busy  with  the  tray,  opened 
and  read: 

"I  have  just  received  a  message  from  MacArthur's 
daughter  that  your  life  is  to  be  imperilled  to-night  by  a 
dangerous  raid.  Remember  your  helpless  wife  and  baby. 
Surely  there  are  trusted  men  who  can  do  such  work.  You 
have  often  told  me  that  no  wise  general  ever  risks  his 
precious  life  on  the  firing  line.  You  are  a  soldier,  and 
know  this.  Please,  dearest,  do  not  go.  Baby  and  little 
mother  both  beg  of  you!" 

Norton  looked  at  Cleo  again  curiously.  He  was  sure 
that  the  seal  of  this  note  had  been  broken  and  its  mes 
sage  read  by  her. 

"Do  you  know  what's  in  this  note,  Cleo?"  he  asked 
sharply. 

"No,  sir!"  was  the  quick  answer. 

He  studied  her  again  closely.  She  was  on  guard 
now.  Every  nerve  alert,  every  faculty  under  perfect 
control.  He  was  morally  sure  she  was  lying  and  yet  it 
could  only  be  idle  curiosity  or  jealous  interest  in  his 
affairs  that  prompted  the  act.  That  she  should  be  an 
emissary  of  the  Governor  was  absurd. 

"It's  not  bad  news,  I  hope?"  she  asked  with  an  eager 
ness  that  was  just  a  little  too  eager.  The  man  caught 
the  false  note  and  frowned. 

"No,"  he  answered  carelessly.  "It's  of  no  impor 
tance."  He  picked  up  a  pad  and  wrote  a  hurried  answer: 

56 


THE   ARREST 


"Don't  worry  a  moment,  dear.  I  am  not  in  the  slight 
est  clanger.  I  know  a  soldier's  duty  and  I'll  not  forget  it. 
Sleep  soundly,  little  mother  and  baby  mine!" 

He  folded  the  sheet  of  paper  and  handed  it  to  her 
without  sealing  it.  She  was  watching  him  keenly.  His 
deep,  serious  eyes  no  longer  saw  her.  His  body  was 
there,  but  the  soul  was  gone.  The  girl  had  never  seen 
him  in  this  mood.  She  was  frightened.  His  life  was 
in  danger.  She  knew  it  now  by  an  unerring  instinct. 
She  would  watch  the  jail  and  see  what  happened.  She 
might  do  something  to  win  his  friendship,  and  then — 
the  rest  would  be  easy.  Her  hand  trembled  as  she  took 
the  note. 

"Give  this  to  Mrs.  Norton  at  once,"  he  said,  "and 
tell  her  you  found  me  well  and  happy  in  my  work." 

"Yes,  sir,"  the  soft  voice  answered  mechanically  as 
she  picked  up  the  tray  and  left  the  room  watching  him 
furtively. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    RESCUE 

CLEO  hurried  to  the  house,  delivered  the  message, 
rocked  the  baby  to  sleep  and  quietly  slipped  through 
the  lawn  into  the  street  and  back  to  the  jail. 

A  single  guard  kept  watch  at  the  door.  She  saw  him 
by  a  flash  of  moonlight  and  then  passed  so  close  she 
could  have  touched  the  long  old-fashioned  musket  he 
carried  loosely  across  his  shoulder. 

The  cat-like  tread  left  no  echo  and  she  took  her 
stand  in  the  underbrush  that  had  pushed  its  way  closer 
and  closer  until  its  branches  touched  the  rear  walls  of 
the  jail.  For  two  hours  she  stood  amid  the  shadows, 
her  keen  young  ears  listening  and  her  piercing  eyes 
watching.  Again  and  again  she  counted  the  steps  the 
sentinel  made  as  he  walked  back  and  forth  in  front  of 
the  entrance  to  the  jail. 

She  knew  from  the  sound  that  he  passed  the  corner 
of  the  building  for  three  steps  in  full  view  from  her 
position,  could  she  but  see  him  through  the  darkness. 
Twice  she  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  stupid  face  as 
the  moon  flashed  a  moment  of  light  through  a  rift  of 
clouds. 

"The  Lord  help  that  idiot,"  she  muttered,  "if  the 
major's  men  want  to  pass  him  to-night!" 

She  turned  with  a  sharp  start.  The  bushes  softly 
parted  behind  her  and  a  stealthy  step  drew  near.  Her 

58 


THE   RESCUE 


heart  stood  still.  She  was  afraid  to  breathe.  They 
wouldn't  hurt  her  if  they  only  knew  she  was  the  major's 
friend.  But  if  they  found  and  recognized  her  as  old 
Peeler's  half-breed  daughter,  they  might  kill  her  on  the 
spot  as  a  spy. 

She  hadn't  thought  of  this  terrible  possibility  before. 
It  was  too  late  now  to  think.  To  run  meant  almost 
certain  death.  She  flattened  her  figure  against  the  wall 
of  the  jail  and  drew  the  underbrush  close  completely 
covering  her  form. 

She  stood  motionless  and  as  near  breathless  as  possi 
ble  until  the  two  men  who  were  approaching  a  step  at 
a  time  had  passed.  At  the  corner  of  the  jail  they 
stopped  within  three  feet  of  her.  She  could  hear  every 
word  of  their  conference. 

"Now,  Mac,  do  as  I  tell  you,"  a  voice  whispered. 
"Jump  on  him  from  behind  as  he  passes  the  corner  and 
get  him  in  the  gills." 

"I  understand." 

"Choke  him  stiff  until  I  get  something  in  his  mouth." 

"Ah,  it's  too  easy.     I'd  like  a  little  excitement." 

"We'll  get  it  before  morning " 

"Sh!  what's  that?" 

"I  didn't  hear  anything!" 

"Something  moved." 

A  bush  had  slipped  from  Cleo's  hand.  She  gripped 
the  others  with  desperation.  Ten  minutes  passed  amid 
a  death-like  silence.  A  hundred  times  she  imagined  the 
hand  of  one  of  these  men  feeling  for  her  throat.  At 
last  she  drew  a  deep  breath. 

The  men  began  to  move  step  by  step  toward  the 
doomed  sentinel.  They  were  standing  beside  the  front 
corner  of  the  jail  now  waiting  panther-like  for  their 

59 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

prey.     They  allowed  him  to  pass  twice.     He  stopped 
at  the  end  of  his  beat,  blew  his  nose  and  spoke  to  himself: 

"God,  what  a  lonely  night !" 

The  girl  heard  him  turn,  his  feet  measure  three  steps 
on  his  return  and  stop  with  a  dull  thud.  She  couldn't 
see,  but  she  could  feel  through  the  darkness  the  grip  of 
those  terrible  fingers  on  his  throat.  The  only  sound 
made  was  the  dull  thud  of  his  body  on  the  wet  ground. 

In  two  minutes  they  had  carried  him  into  the  shadows 
of  a  big  china  tree  in  the  rear  and  tied  him  to  the  trunk. 
She  could  hear  their  sharp  order: 

"Break  those  cords  now  or  dare  to  open  your  mouth 
and,  no  matter  what  happens,  we'll  kill  you  first — just 
for  luck." 

In  ten  minutes  they  had  reported  the  success  of  their 
work  to  their  comrades  wrho  were  waiting  and  the  men 
who  had  been  picked  for  their  dangerous  task  sur 
rounded  the  jail  and  slowly  took  up  their  appointed 
places  in  the  shadows. 

The  attacking  group  stopped  for  their  final  instruc 
tions  not  five  feet  from  the  girl's  position.  A  flash  of 
moonlight  and  she  saw  them — six  grim  white  and  scarlet 
figures  wearing  spiked  helmets  from  which  fell  a  cloth 
mask  to  their  shoulders.  Their  big  revolvers  were 
buckled  on  the  outside  of  their  disguises  and  each  man's 
hand  rested  on  the  handle. 

One  of  them  quietly  slipped  his  robe  from  his  shoul 
ders,  removed  his  helmet,  put  on  the  sentinel's  coat  and 
cap,  seized  his  musket  and  walked  to  the  door  of  the 
jail. 

She  heard  him  drop  the  butt  of  the  gun  on  the  flag 
stone  at  the  steps  and  call: 

"Hello,  jailer!" 

60 


THE   RESCUE 


Some  one  stirred  inside.  It  was  not  yet  one  o'clock 
emd  the  jailer  who  had  been  to  a  drinking  bout  with 
the  soldiers  had  not  gone  to  bed.  In  his  shirt  sleeves 
he  thrust  his  head  out  the  door: 

"Who  is  it?" 

"The  guard,  sir." 

"Well,  what  the  devil  do  you  want?" 

"Can't  ye  gimme  a  drink  of  somethin'?  I'm  soaked 
through  and  I've  caught  cold " 

"All  right,  in  a  minute,"  was  the  gruff  reply. 

The  girl  could  hear  the  soft  tread  of  the  shrouded 
figures  closing  in  on  the  front  door.  A  moment  more 
and  it  opened.  The  voice  inside  said: 

"Here  you  are!" 

The  words  had  scarcely  passed  his  lips,  and  there 
was  another  dull  crash.  A  dozen  masked  Clansmen 
hurled  themselves  into  the  doorway  and  rushed  over 
the  prostrate  form  of  the  half -drunken  jailer.  He  was 
too  frightened  to  call  for  help.  He  lay  with  his  face 
downward,  begging  for  his  life. 

It  was  the  work  of  a  minute  to  take  the  keys  from 
his  trembling  fingers,  bind  and  gag  him,  and  release 
Norton.  The  whole  thing  had  been  done  so  quietly  not 
even  a  dog  had  barked  at  the  disturbance. 

Again  they  stopped  within  a  few  feet  of  the  trembling 
figure  against  the  wall.  The  editor  had  now  put  on  his 
disguise  and  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  group  giving  his 
orders  as  quietly  as  though  he  were  talking  to  his  print 
ers  about  the  form  of  his  paper. 

"Quick  now,  Mac,"  she  heard  him  say,  "we've  not  a 
moment  to  lose.  I  want  two  pieces  of  scantling  strong 
enough  for  a  hangman's  beam.  Push  one  of  them  out 
of  the  center  window  of  the  north  end  of  the  Capitol 

61 


THE  SINS   OF  THE   FATHER 

building,  the  other  from  the  south  end.  We'll  hang  the 
little  Scalawag  on  the  south  side  and  the  Carpetbagger 
on  the  north.  We'll  give  them  this  grim  touch  of 
poetry  at  the  end.  Your  ropes  have  ready  swinging 
from  these  beams.  Keep  your  men  on  guard  there  until 
I  come." 

"All  right,  sir !"  came  the  quick  response. 

"My  hundred  picked  men  are  waiting?" 

"On  the  turnpike  at  the  first  branch " 

"Good!  The  Governor  is  spending  the  night  at 
Schlitz's  place,  three  miles  out.  He  has  been  afraid  to 
sleep  at  home  of  late,  I  hear.  We'll  give  the  little  man 
and  his  pal  a  royal  escort  for  once  as  they  approach 
the  Capitol — expect  us  within  an  hour." 

A  moment  and  they  were  gone.  The  girl  staggered 
from  her  cramped  position  and  flew  to  the  house.  She 
couldn't  understand  it  all,  but  she  realized  that  if  the 
Governor  were  killed  it  meant  possible  ruin  for  the  man 
she  had  marked  her  own. 

A  light  was  still  burning  in  the  mother's  room.  She 
had  been  nervous  and  restless  and  couldn't  sleep.  She 
heard  the  girl's  swift,  excited  step  on  the  stairway  and 
rushed  to  the  door: 

"What  is  it?     What  has  happened?" 

Cleo  paused  for  breath  and  gasped : 

"They've  broken  the  jail  open  and  he's  gone  with 
the  Ku  Klux  to  kill  the  Governor !" 

"To  kill  the  Governor?" 

"Yessum.  He's  got  a  hundred  men  waiting  out  on 
the  turnpike  and  they're  going  to  hang  the  Governor 
from  one  of  the  Capitol  windows !" 

The  wife  caught  the  girl  by  the  shoulders  and  cried: 

"LWho  told  you  this?" 

62 


THE   RESCUE 


"Nobody.  I  saw  them.  I  was  passing  the  jail, 
heard  a  noise  and  went  close  in  the  dark.  I  heard  the 
major  give  the  orders  to  the  men." 

"Oh,  my  God!"  the  little  mother  groaned.  "And 
they  are  going  straight  to  the  Governor's  mansion?" 

"No — no — he  said  the  Governor's  out  at  Schlitz's 
place,  spending  the  night.  They're  going  to  kill  him, 
too " 

"Then  there's  time  to  stop  them — quick — can  you 
hitch  a  horse?" 

"Yessum !" 

"Run  to  the  stable,  hitch  my  horse  to  the  buggy  and 
take  a  note  I'll  write  to  my  grandfather,  old  Governor 
Carteret — you  know  where  his  place  is — the  big  red 
brick  house  at  the  edge  of  town?" 

"Yessum " 

"His  street  leads  into  the  turnpike — quick  now — the 
horse  and  buggy !" 

The  strong  young  body  sprang  down  the  steps  three 
and  four  rounds  at  a  leap  and  in  five  minutes  the 
crunch  of  swift  wheels  on  the  gravel  walk  was  heard. 

She  sprang  up  the  stairs,  took  the  note  from  the 
frail,  trembling  little  hand  and  bounded  out  of  the  house 
again. 

The  clouds  had  passed  and  the  moon  was  shining  now 
in  silent  splendor  on  the  sparkling  refreshed  trees  and 
shrubbery.  The  girl  was  an  expert  in  handling  a  horse. 
Old  Peeler  had  at  least  taught  her  that.  In  five  more 
minutes  from  the  time  she  had  left  the  house  she  was 
knocking  furiously  at  the  old  Governor's  door.  He  was 
eighty-four,  but  a  man  of  extraordinary  vigor  for  his 
age. 

He  came  to  the  door  alone  in  his  night-dress,  candle 
68 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

in  hand,  scowling  at  the  unseemly  interruption  of  his 
rest. 

"What  is  it?"  he  cried  with  impatience. 

"A  note  from  Mrs.  Norton." 

At  the  mention  of  her  name  the  fine  old  face  softened 
and  then  his  eyes  flashed: 

"She  is  ill?" 

"No,  sir — but  she  wants  you  to  help  her." 

He  took  the  note,  placed  the  candle  on  the  old- 
fashioned  mahogany  table  in  his  hall,  returned  to  his 
room  for  his  glasses,  adjusted  them  with  deliberation 
and  read  its  startling  message. 

He  spoke  without  looking  up : 

"You  know  the  road  to  Schlitz's  house?" 

"Yes,  sir,  every  foot  of  it." 

"I'll  be  ready  in  ten  minutes." 

"We've  no  time  to  lose — you'd  better  hurry,"  the 
girl  said  nervously. 

The  old  man  lifted  his  eyebrows : 

"I  will.  But  an  ex-Governor  of  the  state  can't  rush 
to  meet  the  present  Governor  in  his  shirt-tail — now,  can 
he?" 

Cleo  laughed : 

"No,  sir." 

The  thin,  sprightly  figure  moved  quickly  in  spite  of 
the  eighty-four  years  and  in  less  than  ten  minutes  he 
was  seated  beside  the  girl  and  they  were  flying  over 
the  turnpike  toward  the  Schlitz  place. 

"How  long  since  those  men  left  the  jail?"  the  old 
Governor  asked  roughly. 

"About  a  half-hour,  sir." 

"Give  your  horse  the  rein — we'll  be  too  late,  I'm 
afraid."  * 

64 


THE   RESCUE 


The  lines  slacked  over  the  spirited  animal's  back  and 
he  sprang  forward  as  though  lashed  by  the  insult  to 
his  high  breeding. 

The  sky  was  studded  now  with  stars  sparkling  in  the 
air  cleared  by  the  rain,  and  the  moon  flooded  the  white 
roadway  with  light.  The  buggy  flew  over  the  beaten 
track  for  a  mile,  and  as  they  suddenly  plunged  down  a 
hill  the  old  man  seized  both  sides  of  the  canopy  top 
to  steady  his  body  as  the  light  rig  swayed  first  one  way 
and  then  the  other. 

"You're  going  pretty  fast,"  he  grumbled. 

"Yes,  you  said  to  give  him  the  reins." 

"But  I  didn't  say  to  throw  them  on  the  horse's  head, 
did  I?" 

"No,  sir,"  the  girl  giggled. 

"Pull  him  in!"  he  ordered  sharply. 

The  strong  young  arms  drew  the  horse  suddenly 
down  on  his  haunches  and  the  old  man  lurched  forward. 

"I  didn't  say  pull  him  into  the  buggy,"  he  growled. 

The  girl  suppressed  another  laugh.  He  was  cer 
tainly  a  funny  old  man  for  all  his  eighty  odd  winters. 
She  thought  that  he  must  have  been  a  young  devil  at 
eighteen. 

"Stop  a  minute !"  he  cried  sharply.  "What's  that 
roaring?" 

Cleo  listened : 

"The  wind  in  the  trees,  I  think." 

"Nothing  of  the  sort— isn't  this  Buffalo  creek?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"That's  water  we  hear.  The  creek's  out  of  banks. 
The  storm  has  made  the  ford  impassable.  They  haven't 
crossed  this  place  yet.  We're  in  time." 

The  horse  lifted  his  head  and  neighed.  Another 

65 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

answered  from  the  woods  and  in  a  moment  a  white- 
masked  figure  galloped  up  to  the  buggy  and  spoke 
sharply : 

"You  can't  cross  this  ford — turn  back." 

"Are  you  one  of  Norton's  men?"  the  old  man  asked 
angrily. 

"None  of  your  damned  business !"  was  the  quick  an 
swer. 

"I  think  it  is,  sir !  I'm  Governor  Carteret.  My  age 
and  services  to  this  state  entitle  me  to  a  hearing  to 
night.  Tell  Major  Norton  I  must  speak  to  him  im 
mediately — immediately,  sir!"  His  voice  rose  to  a 
high  note  of  imperious  command. 

The  horseman  hesitated  and  galloped  into  the  shad 
ows.  A  moment  later  a  tall  shrouded  figure  on  horse 
back  slowly  aproached. 

"Cut  your  wheel,"  the  old  Governor  said  to  the  girl. 
He  stepped  from  the  buggy  without  assistance.  "Now 
turn  round  and  wait  for  me."  Cleo  obeyed,  and  the 
venerable  statesman  with  head  erect,  his  white  hair  and 
beard  shining  in  the  moonlight  calmly  awaited  the  ap 
proach  of  the  younger  man. 

Norton  dismounted  and  led  his  horse,  the  rein  hang 
ing  loosely  over  his  arm. 

"Well,  Governor  Carteret" — the  drawling  voice  was 
low  and  quietly  determined. 

The  white-haired  figure  suddenly  stiffened: 

"Don't  insult  me,  sir,  by  talking  through  a  mask — 
take  that  thing  off  your  head." 

The  major  bowed  and  removed  his  mask. 

When  the  old  man  spoke  again,  his  voice  trembled 
with  emotion,  he  stepped  close  and  seized  Norton's  arm : 

"My  boy,  have  you  gone  mad?" 

66 


THE   RESCUE 


"I  think  not,"  was  the  even  answer.  The  deep  brown 
eyes  were  holding  the  older  man's  gaze  with  a  cold, 
deadly  look.  "Were  you  ever  arrested,  Governor,  by 
the  henchmen  of  a  peanut  politician  and  thrown  into 
a  filthy  jail  without  warrant  and  held  without  trial  at 
the  pleasure  of  a  master?" 

"No— by  the  living  God !" 

"And  if  you  had  been,  sir?" 

"I'd  have  killed  him  as  I  would  a  dog — I'd  have  shot 
him  on  sight — but  you — you  can't  do  this  now,  my  boy 
i — you  carry  the  life  of  the  people  in  your  hands  to 
night!  You  are  their  chosen  leader.  The  peace  and 
dignity  of  a  great  commonwealth  are  in  your  care " 

"I  am  asserting  its  outraged  dignity  against  a  wretch 
who  has  basely  betrayed  it." 

"Even  so,  this  is  not  the  way.  Think  of  the  conse 
quences  to-morrow  morning.  The  President  will  be 
forced  against  his  wishes  to  declare  the  state  in  insur 
rection.  The  army  will  be  marched  back  into  our  bor 
ders  and  martial  law  proclaimed." 

"The  state  is  under  martial  law — the  writ  has  been 
suspended." 

"But  not  legally,  my  boy.  I  know  your  provocation 
has  been  great — yes,  greater  than  I  could  have  borne 
in  my  day.  I'll  be  honest  with  you,  but  you've  had  bet 
ter  discipline,  my  son.  I  belong  to  the  old  regime  and 
an  iron  will  has  been  my  only  law.  You  must  live  in 
the  new  age  under  new  conditions.  You  must  adjust 
yourself  to  these  conditions." 

"The  man  who  calls  himself  Governor  has  betrayed 
his  high  trust,"  Norton  broke  in  with  solemn  emphasis. 
"He  has  forfeited  his  life.  The  people  whom  he  has 
basely  sold  into  bondage  will  applaud  his  execution. 

67 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

The  Klan  to-night  is  the  high  court  of  a  sovereign  state 
and  his  death  has  been  ordered." 

"I  insist  there's  a  better  way.  Your  Klan  is  a  resist 
less  weapon  if  properly  used.  You  are  a  maniac  to 
night.  You  are  pulling  your  own  house  down  over  your 
head.  The  election  is  but  a  few  weeks  off.  Use  your 
men  as  an  army  to  force  this  election.  The  ballot  is 
force — physical  force.  Apply  that  force.  Your  men" 
can  master  that  rabble  of  negroes  on  election  day. 
Drive  them  from  the  polls.  They'll  run  like  frightened 
sheep.  Their  enfranchisement  is  a  crime  against  civili 
zation.  Every  sane  man  in  the  North  knows  this.  No 
matter  how  violent  your  methods,  an  election  that  re 
turns  the  intelligent  and  decent  manhood  of  a  state  to 
power  against  a  corrupt,  ignorant  and  vicious  mob  will 
be  backed  at  last  by  the  moral  sentiment  of  the  world. 
There's  a  fiercer  vengeance  to  be  meted  out  to  your 
Scalawag  Governor " 

"What  do  you  mean?"  the  younger  man  asked. 

"Swing  the  power  of  your  Klan  in  solid  line  against 
the  ballot-box  at  this  election,  carry  the  state,  elect 
your  Legislature,  impeach  the  Governor,  remove  him 
from  office,  deprive  him  of  citizenship  and  send  him 
to  the  grave  with  the  brand  of  shame  on  his  fore 
head  !" 

The  leader  lifted  his  somber  face,  and  the  older  man 
saw  that  he  was  hesitating: 

"That's  possible— yes " 

The  white  head  moved  closer: 

"The  only  rational  thing  to  do,  my  boy — come,  I  love 
you  and  I  love  my  granddaughter.  You've  a  great  ca 
reer  before  you.  Don't  throw  your  life  away  to-night 
in  a  single  act  of  madness.  Listen  to  an  old  man  whose 

68 


THE   RESCUE 


sands  are  nearly  run" — a  trembling  arm  slipped  around 
his  waist. 

"I  appreciate  your  coming  here  to-night,  Governor, 
of  course." 

"But  if  I  came  in  vain,  why  at  all?"  there  were  tears 
in  his  voice  now.  "You  must  do  as  I  say,  my  son — 
send  those  men  home !  I'll  see  the  Governor  to-morrow 
•mornMg  and  I  pledge  you  my  word  of  honor  that  I'll 
make  him  revoke  that  proclamation  within  an  hour  and 
restore  the  civil  rights  of  the  people.  None  of  those 
arrests  are  legal  and  every  man  must  be  released." 

"He  won't  do  it." 

"When  he  learns  from  my  lips  that  I  saved  his  dog's 
life  to-night,  he'll  do  it  and  lick  my  feet  in  gratitude. 
Won't  you  trust  me,  boy?" 

The  pressure  of  the  old  man's  arm  tightened  and 
his  keen  eyes  searched  Norton's  face.  The  strong  fea 
tures  were  convulsed  with  passion,  he  turned  away  and 
the  firm  mouth  closed  with  decision : 

"All  right.     I'll  take  your  advice." 

The  old  Governor  was  very  still  for  a  moment  and 
his  voice  quivered  with  tenderness  as  he  touched  Nor 
ton's  arm  affectionately: 

"You're  a  good  boy,  Dan !  I  knew  you'd  hear  me. 
God!  how  I  envy  you  the  youth  and  strength  that's 
yours  to  fight  this  battle!" 

The  leader  blew  a  whistle  and  his  orderly  galloped 
up: 

"Tell  my  men  to  go  home  and  meet  me  to-morrow  at 
one  o'clock  in  the  Court  House  Square,  in  their  every 
day  clothes,  armed  and  ready  for  orders.  I'll  dismiss 
the  guard  I  left  at  the  Capitol." 

The  white  horseman  wheeled  and  galloped  away. 

69 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

Norton  quietly  removed  his  disguise,  folded  it  neatly, 
took  off  his  saddle,  placed  the  robe  between  the  folds 
of  the  blanket  and  mounted  his  horse. 

The  old  Governor  waved  to  him : 

"My  love  to  the  little  mother  and  that  boy,  Tom,  that 
you've  named  for  me !" 

"Yes,  Governor — good  night." 

The  tall  figure  on  horseback  melted  into  the  shadows 
and  in  a  moment  the  buggy  was  spinning  over  the  glis 
tening,  moonlit  track  of  the  turnpike. 

When  they  reached  the  first  street  lamps  on  the  edge 
of  town,  the  old  man  peered  curiously  at  the  girl  by 
his  side. 

"You  drive  well,  young  woman,"  he  said  slowly. 
"Who  taught  you?" 

"Old  Peeler." 

"You  lived  on  his  place?"  he  asked  quickly. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"What's  your  mother's  name?" 

"Lucy." 

"Hm !  I  thought  so." 

"Why,  sir?" 

"Oh,  nothing,"  was  the  gruff  answer. 

"Did  you — did  you  know  any  of  my  people,  sir?" 
she  asked. 

He  looked  her  squarely  in  the  face,  smiled  and  pursed 
his  withered  lips : 

"Yes.  I  happen  to  be  personally  acquainted  with 
your  grandfather  and  he  was  something  of  a  man  in  his 
day." 


70 


'  You  are  a  maniac  to-night. 


CHAPTER  VI 


A  TRAITOR'S  RUSE 


THE  old  Governor  had  made  a  correct  guess  on  the 
line  of  action  his  little  Scalawag  successor  in  high  office 
would  take  when  confronted  by  the  crisis  of  the  morning. 

The  Clansmen  had  left  the  two  beams  projecting 
through  the  windows  of  the  north  and  south  wings  of 
the  Capitol.  A  hangman's  noose  swung  from  each 
beam's  end. 

When  His  Excellency  drove  into  town  next  morning 
and  received  the  news  of  the  startling  events  of  the 
night,  he  ordered  a  double  guard  of  troops  for  his  of 
fice  and  another  for  his  house. 

Old  Governor  Carteret  called  at  ten  o'clock  and  was 
ushered  immediately  into  the  executive  office.  No  more 
striking  contrast  could  be  imagined  between  two  men  of 
equal  stature.  Their  weight  and  height  were  almost 
the  same,  yet  they  seemed  to  belong  to  different  races 
of  men.  The  Scalawag  official  hurried  to  meet  his  dis 
tinguished  caller — a  man  whose  administration  thirty 
years  ago  was  famous  in  the  annals  of  the  state. 

The  acting  Governor  seemed  a  pigmy  beside  his  ven 
erable  predecessor.  The  only  prominent  feature  of  the 
Scalawag's  face  was  his  nose,  Its  size  should  have 
symbolized  strength,  yet  it  didn't.  It  seemed  to  pro 
ject  straight  in  front  in  a  way  that  looked  ridiculous 
— as  if  some  one  had  caught  it  with  a  pair  of  tongs, 

71 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

tweaked  and  pulled  it  out  to  an  unusual  length.  It 
was  elongated  but  not  impressive.  His  mouth  was 
weak,  his  chin  small  and  retreating  and  his  watery  fer 
ret  eyes  never  looked  any  one  straight  in  the  face.  The 
front  of  his  head  was  bald  and  sloped  backward  at  an 
angle.  His  hair  was  worn  in  long,  thin,  straight  locks 
which  he  combed  often  in  a  vain  effort  to  look  the  typi 
cal  long-haired  Southern  gentleman  of  the  old  school. 

His  black  broadcloth  suit  with  a  velvet  collar  and 
cuffs  fitted  his  slight  figure  to  perfection  and  yet  failed 
to  be  impressive.  The  failure  was  doubtless  due  to  his 
curious  way  of  walking  about  a  room.  Sometimes  side 
ways  like  a  crab  or  a  crawfish,  and  when  he  sought  to 
be  impressive,  straight  forward  with  an  obvious  jerk 
and  an  effort  to  appear  dignified. 

He  was  the  kind  of  a  man  an  old-fashioned  negro, 
born  and  bred  in  the  homes  of  the  aristocratic  regime  of 
slavery,  would  always  laugh  at.  His  attempt  to  be  a 
gentleman  was  so  obvious  a  fraud  it  could  deceive  no 
one. 

"I  am  honored,  Governor  Carteret,  by  your  call  this 
morning,"  he  cried  with  forced  politeness.  "I  need  the 
advice  of  our  wisest  men.  I  appreciate  your  coming." 

The  old  Governor  studied  the  Scalawag  for  a  mo 
ment  calmly  and  said : 

"Thank  you." 

When  shown  to  his  seat  the  older  man  walked  with' 
the  unconscious  dignity  of  a  man  born  to  rule,  the 
lines  of  his  patrician  face  seemed  cut  from  a  cameo  in 
contrast  with  the  rambling  nondescript  features  of  the 
person  who  walked  with  a  shuffle  beside  him.  It  required 
no  second  glance  at  the  clean  ruffled  shirt  with  its  tiny 
gold  studs,  the  black  string  tie,  the  polished  boots  and 

72 


A    TRAITOR'S   RUSE 


gold-headed  cane  to  recognize  the  real  gentleman  of 
the  old  school.  And  no  man  ever  looked  a  second  time 
at  his  Roman  nose  and  massive  chin  and  doubted  for 
a  moment  that  he  saw  a  man  of  power,  of  iron  will  and 
fierce  passions. 

"I  have  called  this  morning,  Governor,"  the  older 
man  began  with  sharp  emphasis,  "to  advise  you  to  re 
voke  at  once  your  proclamation  suspending  the  writ  of 
habeas  corpus.  Your  act  was  a  blunder — a  colossal 
blunder!  We  are  not  living  in  the  Dark  Ages,  sir — 
even  if  you  were  elected  by  a  negro  constituency !  Your 
act  is  four  hundred  years  out  of  date  in  the  English- 
speaking  world." 

The  Scalawag  began  his  answer  by  wringing  his  slip 
pery  hands : 

"I  realize,  Governor  Carteret,  the  gravity  of  my  act. 
Yet  grave  dangers  call  for  grave  remedies.  You  see 
from  the  news  this  morning  the  condition  of  turmoil 
into  which  reckless  men  have  plunged  the  state." 

The  old  man  rose,  crossed  the  room  and  confronted 
the  Scalawag,  his  eyes  blazing,  his  uplifted  hand  trem 
bling  with  passion: 

"The  breed  of  men  with  whom  you  are  fooling  have 
not  submitted  to  such  an  act  of  tyranny  from  their 
rulers  for  the  past  three  hundred  years.  Your  effort  to 
set  the  negro  up  as  the  ruler  of  the  white  race  is  the 
act  of  a  madman.  Revoke  your  order  to-day  or  the 
men  who  opened  that  jail  last  night  will  hang  you " 

The  Governor  laughed  lamely : 

"A  cheap  bluff,  sir,  a  schoolboy's  threat !" 

The  older  man  drew  closer : 

"A  cheap  bluff,  eh?  Well,  when  you  say  your 
prayers  to-night,  don't  forget  to  thank  your  Maker  for 

73 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

two  things — that  He  sent  a  storm  yesterday  that  made 
Buffalo  creek  impassable  and  that  I  reached  its  banks 
in  time!" 

The  little  Scalawag  paled  and  his  voice  was  scarcely 
a  whisper: 

"Why — why,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"That  I  reached  the  ford  in  time  to  stop  a  hundred 
desperate  men  who  were  standing  there  in  the  dark  wait 
ing  for  its  waters  to  fall  that  they  might  cross  and  hang 
you  from  that  beam's  end  you  call  a  cheap  bluff !  That 
I  stood  there  in  the  moonlight  with  my  arm  around  their 
leader  for  nearly  an  hour  begging,  praying,  pleading 
for  your  damned  worthless  life!  They  gave  it  to  me 
at  last  because  I  asked  it.  No  other  man  could  have 
saved  you.  Your  life  is  mine  to-day!  But  for  my 
solemn  promise  to  those  men  that  you  would  revoke  that 
order  your  body  would  be  swinging  at  this  moment  from 
the  Capitol  window — will  you  make  good  my  promise?" 

"I'll — I'll  consider  it,"  was  the  waning  answer. 

"Yes  or  no?" 

"I'll  think  it  over,  Governor  Carteret — I'll  think  it 
over,"  the  trembling  voice  repeated.  "I  must  consult 
my  friends " 

"I  won't  take  that  answer!"  the  old  man  thundered 
in  his  face.  "Revoke  that  proclamation  here  and  now, 
or,  by  the  Lord  God,  I'll  send  a  message  to  those  men 
that'll  swing  you  from  the  gallows  before  the  sun  rises 
to-morrow  morning!" 

"I've  got  my  troops " 

"A  hell  of  a  lot  of  troops  they  are !  Where  were  they 
last  night — the  loafing,  drunken  cowards?  You  can't 
get  enough  troops  in  this  town  to  save  you.  Revoke 
that  proclamation  or  take  your  chances !" 

74 


A    TRAITOR'S  RUSE 


The  old  Governor  seized  his  hat  and  walked  calmly 
toward  the  door.  The  Scalawag  trembled,  and  finally 
said: 

"I'll  take  your  advice,  sir — wait  a  moment  until  I 
write  the  order." 

The  room  was  still  for  five  minutes,  save  for  the 
scratch  of  the  Governor's  pen,  as  he  wrote  his  second 
famous  proclamation,  restoring  the  civil  rights  of  the 
people.  He  signed  and  sealed  the  document  and  handed 
it  to  his  waiting  guest : 

"Is  that  satisfactory?" 

The  old  man  adjusted  his  glasses,  read  each  word 
carefully,  and  replied  with  dignity: 

"Perfectly — good  morning !" 

The  white  head  erect,  the  visitor  left  the  execu 
tive  chamber  without  a  glance  at  the  man  he  de 
spised. 

The  Governor  had  given  his  word,  signed  and  sealed 
his  solemn  proclamation,  but  he  proved  himself  a  traitor 
to  the  last. 

With  the  advice  of  his  confederates  he  made  a  last 
desperate  effort  to  gain  his  end  of  holding  the  leaders  of 
the  opposition  party  in  jail  by  a  quick  shift  of  method. 
He  wired  orders  to  every  jailer  to  hold  the  men  until 
warrants  were  issued  for  their  arrest  by  one  of  his  negro 
magistrates  in  each  county  and  wired  instructions  to  the 
clerk  of  the  court  to  admit  none  of  them  to  bail  no  mat 
ter  what  amount  offered. 

The  charges  on  which  these  warrants  were  issued 
were,  in  the  main,  preposterous  perjuries  by  the  hire 
lings  of  the  Governor.  There  was  no  expectation  that 
they  would  be  proven  in  court.  But  if  they  could  hold 
these  prisoners  until  the  election  was  over  the  little  Seal- 

75 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

awag  believed  the  Klan  could  be  thus  intimidated  in  each 
district  and  the  negro  ticket  triumphantly  elected. 

The  Governor  was  explicit  in  his  instructions  to  the 
clerk  of  the  court  in  the  Capital  county  that  under 
no  conceivable  circumstances  should  he  accept  bail  for 
the  editor  of  the  Eagle  and  Phoenix. 

The  Governor's  proclamation  was  issued  at  noon  and 
within  an  hour  a  deputy  sheriff  appeared  at  Norton's 
office  and  served  his  warrant  charging  the  preposterous 
crime  of  "Treason  and  Conspiracy"  against  the  state 
government. 

Norton's  hundred  picked  men  were  already  lounging 
in  the  Court  House  Square.  When  the  deputy  appeared 
with  his  prisoner  they  quietly  closed  in  around  him  and 
entered  the  clerk's  room  in  a  body.  The  clerk  was 
dumfounded  at  the  sudden  packing  of  his  place  with 
quiet,  sullen  looking,  armed  men.  Their  revolvers  were 
in  front  and  the  men  were  nervously  fingering  the 
handles. 

The  clerk  had  been  ordered  by  the  Governor  under 
no  circumstances  to  accept  bail,  and  he  had  promised 
with  alacrity  to  obey.  But  he  changed  his  mind  at  the 
sight  of  those  revolvers.  Not  a  word  was  spoken  by 
the  men  and  the  silence  was  oppressive.  The  frightened 
official  mopped  his  brow  and  tried  to  leave  for  a  moment 
to  communicate  with  the  Capitol.  He  found  it  impossi 
ble  to  move  from  his  desk.  The  men  were  jammed 
around  him  in  an  impenetrable  mass.  He  looked  over 
the  crowd  in  vain  for  a  friendly  face.  Even  the  deputy 
who  had  made  the  arrest  had  been  jostled  out  of  the 
room  and  couldn't  get  back. 

The  editor  looked  at  the  clerk  steadily  for  a  moment 
and  quietly  asked : 

76 


A    TRAITOR'S   RUSE 


"What  amount  of  bail  do  you  require?" 

The  officer  smiled  wanly: 

"Oh,  major,  it's  just  a  formality  with  you,  sir;  a 
mere  nominal  sum  of  $500  will  be  all  right." 

"Make  out  your  bond,"  the  editor  curtly  ordered. 
"My  friends  here  will  sign  it." 

"Certainly,  certainly,  major,"  was  the  quick  answer. 
"Have  a  seat,  sir,  while  I  fill  in  the  blank." 

"I'll  stand,  thank  you,"  was  the  quick  reply. 

The  clerk's  pen  flew  while  he  made  out  the  forbidden 
bail  which  set  at  liberty  the  arch  enemy  of  the  Gover 
nor.  When  it  was  signed  and  the  daring  young  leader 
quietly  walked  out  the  door,  a  cheer  from  a  hundred 
men  rent  the  air. 

The  shivering  clerk  cowered  in  his  seat  over  his  desk 
and  pretended  to  be  very  busy.  In  reality  he  was 
breathing  a  prayer  of  thanks  to  God  for  sparing  his 
life  and  registering  a  solemn  vow  to  quit  politics  and 
go  back  to  farming. 

The  editor  hurried  to  his  office  and  sent  a  message  to 
each  district  leader  of  the  Klan  to  secure  bail  for  the 
accused  men  in  the  same  quiet  manner. 


77 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   IRONY   OF    FATE 

His  political  battle  won,  Norton  turned  his  face 
homeward  for  a  struggle  in  which  victory  would  not 
come  so  easily.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  that  Cleo 
should  not  remain  under  his  roof  another  day.  How 
much  she  really  knew  or  understood  of  the  events  of  the 
night  he  could  only  guess.  He  was  sure  she  had  heard 
enough  of  the  plans  of  his  men  to  make  a  dangerous 
witness  against  him  if  she  should  see  fit  to  betray  the 
facts  to  his  enemies. 

Yet  he  was  morally  certain  that  he  could  trust  her 
with  this  secret.  What  he  could  not  and  would  not  do 
was  to  imperil  his  own  life  and  character  by  a  daily 
intimate  association  with  this  willful,  impudent,  smiling 
young  animal. 

His  one  fear  was  the  wish  of  his  wife  to  keep  her. 
In  her  illness  she  had  developed  a  tyranny  of  love  that 
brooked  no  interference  with  her  whims.  He  had  petted 
and  spoiled  her  until  it  was  well-nigh  impossible  to 
change  the  situation.  The  fear  of  her  death  was  the 
sword  that  forever  hung  over  his  head. 

He  hoped  that  the  girl  was  lying  when  she  said  his 
wife  liked  her.  Yet  it  was  not  improbable.  Her  mind 
was  still  a  child's.  She  could  not  think  evil  of  any  one. 
She  loved  the  young  and  she  loved  grace  and  beauty 
wherever  she  saw  it.  She  loved  a  beautiful  cat,  a  beau- 

78 


"  Sitting  astride  her  back,  lauefhing  his  loudest.' 


THE   IRONY  OF   FATE 


tiful  dog,  and  always  had  taken  pride  in  a  handsome 
servant.  It  would  be  just  like  her  to  take  a  fancy  to 
Cleo  that  no  argument  could  shake.  He  dreaded  to  put 
the  thing  to  an  issue — but  it  had  to  be  done.  It  was  out 
of  the  question  to  tell  her  the  real  truth. 

His  heart  sank  within  him  as  he  entered  his  wife's 
room.  Mammy  had  gone  to  bed  suffering  with  a  chill. 
The  doctors  had  hinted  that  she  was  suffering  from  an 
incurable  ailment  and  that  her  days  were  numbered. 
Her  death  might  occur  at  any  time. 

Cleo  was  lying  flat  on  a  rug,  the  baby  was  sitting 
astride  of  her  back,  laughing  his  loudest  at  the  funny 
contortions  of  her  lithe  figure.  She  would  stop  every 
now  and  then,  turn  her  own  laughing  eyes  on  him  and 
he  would  scream  with  joy. 

The  little  mother  was  sitting  on  the  floor  like  a  child 
and  laughing  at  the  scene.  In  a  flash  he  realized  that 
Cleo  had  made  herself,  in  the  first  few  days  she  had  been 
in  his  house,  its  dominant  spirit. 

He  paused  in  the  doorway  sobered  by  the  realization. 

The  supple  young  form  on  the  floor  slowly  writhed 
on  her  back  without  disturbing  the  baby's  sturdy  hold, 
his  little  legs  clasping  her  body  tight.  She  drew  his 
laughing  face  to  her  shoulder,  smothering  his  laughter 
with  kisses,  and  suddenly  sprang  to  her  feet,  the  baby 
astride  her  neck,  and  began  galloping  around  the 
room. 

"W'oa!  January,  w'oa,  sir!"  she  cried,  galloping 
slowly  at  first  and  then  prancing  like  a  playful  horse. 

Her  cheeks  were  flushed,  eyes  sparkling  and  red  hair 
flying  in  waves  of  fiery  beauty  over  her  exquisite  shoul 
ders,  every  change  of  attitude  a  new  picture  of  graceful 
abandon,  every  movement  of  her  body  a  throb  of  sav- 

79 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

age  music  from  some  strange  seductive  orchestra  hidden 
in  the  deep  woods ! 

Its  notes  slowly  stole  over  the  senses  of  the  man  with 
such  alluring  power,  that  in  spite  of  his  annoyance  he 
began  to  smile. 

The  girl  stopped,  placed  the  child  on  the  floor,  ran 
to  the  corner  of  the  room,  dropped  on  all  fours  and 
started  slowly  toward  him,  her  voice  imitating  the  deep 
growl  of  a  bear. 

"Now  the  bears  are  going  to  get  him ! — Boo-oo-oo." 

The  baby  screamed  with  delight.  The  graceful  young 
she-bear  capered  around  her  victim  from  side  to  side, 
smelling  his  hands  and  jumping  back,  approaching  and 
retreating,  growling  and  pawing  the  floor,  while  with 
each  movement  the  child  shouted  a  new  note  of  joy. 

The  man,  watching,  wondered  if  this  marvelous 
creamy  yellow  animal  could  get  into  an  ungraceful  po 
sition. 

The  keen  eyes  of  the  young  she-bear  saw  the  boy  had 
worn  himself  out  with  laughter  and  slowly  approached 
her  victim,  tumbled  his  happy  flushed  little  form  over 
on  the  rug  and  devoured  him  with  kisses. 

"Don't,  Cleo — that's  enough  now!"  the  little  mother 
cried,  through  her  tears  of  laughter. 

"Yessum — yessum — I'm  just  eatin'  him  up  now — 
I'm  done — and  he'll  be  asleep  in  two  minutes." 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  crushing  the  little  form  ten 
derly  against  her  warm,  young  bosom,  and  walked  past 
the  man  smiling  into  his  face  a  look  of  triumph.  The 
sombre  eyes  answered  with  a  smile  in  spite  of  him 
self. 

Could  any  man  with  red  blood  in  his  veins  fight  suc 
cessfully  a  force  like  that?  He  heard  the  growl  of  the 

80 


THE   IRONY   OF  FATE 


Beast  within  as  he  stood  watching  the  scene.  The  sight 
of  the  frail  little  face  of  his  invalid  wife  brought  him 
up  against  the  ugly  fact  with  a  sharp  pain. 

Yet  the  moment  he  tried  to  broach  the  subject  of  dis 
charging  Cleo,  he  hesitated,  stammered  and  was  silent. 
At  last  he  braced  himself  with  determination  for  the 
task.  It  was  disagreable,  but  it  had  to  be  done.  The 
sooner  the  better. 

"You  like  this  girl,  my  dear?"  he  said  softly. 

"She's  the  most  wonderful  nurse  I  ever  saw — the 
baby's  simply  crazy  about  her!" 

"Yes,  I  see,"  he  said  soberly. 

"It's  a  perfectly  marvellous  piece  of  luck  that  she 
came  the  day  she  did.  Mammy  was  ready  to  drop. 
She's  been  like  a  fairy  in  the  nursery  from  the  moment 
she  entered.  The  kiddy  has  done  nothing  but  laugh 
and  shriek  with  delight." 

"And  you  like  her  personally?" 

"I've  just  fallen  in  love  with  her!  She's  so  strong 
and  young  and  beautiful.  She  picks  me  up,  laughing 
like  a  child,  and  carries  me  into  the  bathroom,  carries 
me  back  and  tucks  me  in  bed  as  easily  as  she  does  the 
baby." 

"I'm  sorry,  my  dear,"  he  interrupted  with  a  firm, 
hard  note  in  his  voice. 

"Sorry — for  what?"  the  blue  eyes  opened  with  as 
tonishment. 

"Because  I  don't  like  her,  and  her  presence  here  may 
be  very  dangerous  just  now " 

"Dangerous — what  on  earth  can  you  mean?" 

"To  begin  with  that  she's  a  negress " 

"So's  mammy — so's  the  cook — the  man — every  serv 
ant  we've  ever  had — or  will  have " 

81 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  the  last,"  the  husband  broke  in 
with  a  frown. 

"What's  dangerous  about  the  girl,  I'd  like  to  know?" 
his  wife  demanded. 

"I  said,  to  begin  with,  she's  a  negress.  That's  per 
haps  the  least  objectionable  thing  about  her  as  a  servant. 
But  she  has  bad  blood  in  her  on  her  father's  side.  Old 
Peeler's  as  contemptible  a  scoundrel  as  I  know  in  the 
county " 

"The  girl  don't  like  him — that's  why  she  left  home." 

"Did  she  tell  you  that?"  he  asked  quizzically. 

"Yes,  and  I'm  sorry  for  her.  She  wants  a  good  home 
among  decent  white  people  and  I'm  not  going  to  give 
her  up.  I  don't  care  what  you  say." 

The  husband  ignored  the  finality  of  this  decision  and 
went  on  with  his  argument  as  though  she  had  not  spoken. 

"Old  Peeler  is  not  only  a  low  white  scoundrel  who 
would  marry  this  girl's  mulatto  mother  if  he  dared,  but 
he  is  trying  to  break  into  politics  as  a  negro  champion. 
He  denies  it,  but  he  is  a  henchman  of  the  Governor. 
I'm  in  a  fight  with  this  man  to  the  death.  There's  not 
room  for  us  both  in  the  state " 

"And  you  think  this  laughing  child  cares  anything 
about  the  Governor  or  his  dirty  politics  ?  Such  a  thing 
has  never  entered  her  head." 

"I'm  not  sure  of  that." 

"You're  crazy,  Dan." 

"But  I'm  not  so  crazy,  my  dear,  that  I  can't  see  that 
this  girl's  presence  in  our  house  is  dangerous.  She  al 
ready  knows  too  much  about  my  affairs — enough,  in 
fact,  to  endanger  my  life  if  she  should  turn  traitor." 

"But  she  won't  tell,  I  tell  you — she's  loyal — I'd  trust 
her  with  my  life,  or  yours,  or  the  baby's,  without  hesita- 

82 


THE   IRONY   OF   FATE 


tion.  She  proved  her  loyalty  to  me  and  to  you  last 
night." 

"Yes,  and  that's  just  why  she's  so  dangerous."  He 
spoke  slowly,  as  if  talking  to  himself.  "You  can't  un 
derstand,  dear,  I  am  entering  now  the  last  phase  of  a 
desperate  struggle  with  the  little  Scalawag  who  sits  in 
the  Governor's  chair  for  the  mastery  of  this  state  and 
its  life.  The  next  two  weeks  and  this  election  will  de 
cide  whether  white  civilization  shall  live  or  a  permanent 
negroid  mongrel  government,  after  the  pattern  of  Haiti 
and  San  Domingo,  shall  be  established.  If  we  submit, 
we  are  not  worth  saving.  We  ought  to  die  and  our 
civilization  with  us !  We  are  not  going  to  submit,  we 
are  not  going  to  die,  we  are  going  to  win.  I  want  you 
to  help  me  now  by  getting  rid  of  this  girl." 

"I  won't  give  her  up.  There's  no  sense  in  it.  A  man 
who  fought  four  years  in  the  war  is  not  afraid  of  a 
laughing  girl  who  loves  his  baby  and  his  wife !  I  can't 
risk  a  green,  incompetent  girl  in  the  nursery  now.  I 
can't  think  of  breaking  in  a  new  one.  I  like  Cleo.  She's 
a  breath  of  fresh  air  when  she  comes  into  my  room; 
she's  clean  and  neat;  she  sings  beautifully;  her  voice  is 
soft  and  low  and  deep ;  I  love  her  touch  when  she  dresses 
me;  the  baby  worships  her — is  all  this  nothing  to  you?" 

"Is  my  work  nothing  to  you?"  he  answered  soberly. 

"Bah!  It's  a  joke!  Your  work  has  nothing  to  do 
with  this  girl.  She  knows  nothing,  cares  nothing  for 
politics — it's  absurd !" 

"My  dear,  you  must  listen  to  me  now " 

"I  won't  listen.  I'll  have  my  way  about  my  servants. 
It's  none  of  your  business.  Look  after  your  politics 
and  let  the  nursery  alone !" 

"Please  be  reasonable,  my  love.  I  assure  you  I'm  in 

83 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

dead  earnest.     The  danger  is  a  real  one,  or  I  wouldn't 
ask  this  of  you — please " 

"No — no — no — no!"  she  fairly  shrieked. 

His  voice  was  very  quiet  when  he  spoke  at  last: 

"I'm  sorry  to  cross  you  in  this,  but  the  girl  must 
leave  to-night." 

The  tones  of  his  voice  and  the  firm  snap  of  his  strong 
jaw  left  further  argument  out  of  the  question  and  the 
little  woman  played  her  trump  card. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  pale  with  rage,  and  gave  way 
to  a  fit  of  hysteria.  He  attempted  to  soothe  her,  in 
grave  alarm  over  the  possible  effects  on  her  health  of 
such  a  temper. 

With  a  piercing  scream  she  threw  herself  across  the 
bed  and  he  bent  over  her  tenderly: 

"Please,  don't  act  this  way !" 

Her  only  answer  was  another  scream,  her  little  fists 
opening  and  closing  like  a  bird's  talons  gripping  the 
white  counterpane  in  her  trembling  fingers. 

The  man  stood  in  helpless  misery  and  sickening  fear, 
bent  low  and  whispered: 

"Please,  please,  darling — it's  all  right — she  can  stay. 
I  won't  say  another  word.  Don't  make  yourself  ill. 
Please  don't!" 

The   sobbing   ceased  for  a  moment,  and  he  added: 

"I'll  go  into  the  nursery  and  send  her  here  to  put 
you  to  bed." 

He  turned  to  the  door  and  met  Cleo  entering. 

"Miss  Jean  called  me?"  she  asked  with  a  curious 
smile  playing  about  her  greenish  eyes. 

"Yes.     She  wishes  you  to  put  her  to  bed." 

The  girl  threw  him  a  look  of  triumphant  tenderness 
and  he  knew  that  she  had  heard  and  understood. 

84 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  NEW  WEAPON 

FROM  the  moment  the  jail  doors  opened  the  Governor 
felt  the  chill  of  defeat.  With  his  armed  guard  of  fifty 
thousand  "Loyal"  white  men  he  hoped  to  stem  the  rising 
tide  of  Anglo-Saxon  fury.  But  the  hope  was  faint. 
There  was  no  assurance  in  its  warmth.  Every  leader 
he  had  arrested  without  warrant  and  held  without  bail 
was  now  a  firebrand  in  a  powder  magazine.  Mass  meet 
ings,  barbecues  and  parades  were  scheduled  for  every 
day  by  his  enemies  in  every  county. 

The  state  was  ablaze  with  wrath  from  the  mountains 
to  the  sea.  The  orators  of  the  white  race  spoke  with 
tongues  of  flame. 

The  record  of  negro  misrule  under  an  African  Legis 
lature  was  told  with  brutal  detail  and  maddening  effects. 
The  state  treasury  was  empty,  the  school  funds  had 
been  squandered,  millions  in  bonds  had  been  voted  and 
stolen  and  the  thieves  had  fled  the  state  in  terror. 

All  this  the  Governor  knew  from  the  first,  but  he  also 
knew  that  an  ignorant  negro  majority  would  ask  no 
questions  and  believe  no  evil  of  their  allies. 

The  adventurers  from  the  North  had  done  their  work 
of  alienating  the  races  with  a  thoroughness  that  was 
nothing  short  of  a  miracle.  The  one  man  on  earth  who 
had  always  been  his  best  friend,  every  negro  now  held 
his  bitterest  foe.  He  would  consult  his  old  master  about 

85 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

any  subject  under  the  sun  and  take  his  advice  against 
the  world  except  in  politics.  He  would  come  to  the 
back  door,  beg  him  for  a  suit  of  clothes,  take  it  with 
joyous  thanks,  put  it  on  and  march  straight  to  the  polls 
and  vote  against  the  hand  that  gave  it. 

He  asked  no  questions  as  to  his  own  ticket.  It  was 
all  right  if  it  was  against  the  white  man  of  the  South. 
The  few  Scalawags  who  trained  with  negroes  to  get 
office  didn't  count. 

The  negro  had  always  despised  such  trash.  The  Gov 
ernor  knew  his  solid  black  constituency  would  vote  like 
sheep,  exactly  as  they  were  told  by  their  new  teachers. 

But  the  nightmare  that  disturbed  him  now,  waking  or 
dreaming,  was  the  fear  that  this  full  negro  vote  could 
not  be  polled.  The  daring  speeches  by  the  enraged 
leaders  of  the  white  race  were  inflaming  the  minds  of 
the  people  beyond  the  bounds  of  all  reason.  These 
leaders  had  sworn  to  carry  the  election  and  dared  the 
Governor  to  show  one  of  his  scurvy  guards  near  a  poll 
ing  place  on  the  day  they  should  cast  their  ballots. 

The  Ku  Klux  Klan  openly  defied  all  authority.  Their 
men  paraded  the  county  roads  nightly  and  ended  their 
parades  by  lining  their  horsemen  in  cavalry  formation, 
galloping  through  the  towns  and  striking  terror  to 
every  denizen  of  the  crowded  negro  quarters. 

In  vain  the  Governor  issued  frantic  appeals  for  the 
preservation  of  the  sanctity  of  the  ballot.  His  speeches 
in  which  he  made  this  appeal  were  openly  hissed. 

The  ballot  was  no  longer  a  sacred  thing.  The  time 
was  in  American  history  when  it  was  the  badge  of  citi 
zen  kingship.  At  this  moment  the  best  men  in  the  state 
were  disfranchised  and  hundreds  of  thousands  of  ne 
groes,  with  the  instincts  of  the  savage  and  the  intelli- 

86 


A   NEW   WEAPON 


gence  of  the  child,  had  been  given  the  ballot.  Never 
in  the  history  of  civilization  had  the  ballot  fallen  so 
low  in  any  republic.  The  very  atmosphere  of  a  polling 
place  was  a  stench  in  the  nostrils  of  decent  men. 

The  determination  of  the  leaders  of  the  Klan  to  clear 
the  polls  by  force  if  need  be  was  openly  proclaimed 
before  the  day  of  election.  The  philosophy  by  which 
they  justified  this  stand  was  simple,  and  unanswerable, 
for  it  was  founded  in  the  eternal  verities.  Men  are  not 
made  free  by  writing  a  constitution  on  a  piece  of 
paper.  Freedom  is  inside.  A  ballot  is  only  a  symbol. 
That  symbol  stands  for  physical  force  directed  by  the 
highest  intelligence.  The  ballot,  therefore,  is  force — 
physical  force.  Back  of  every  ballot  is  a  bayonet  and 
the  red  blood  of  the  man  who  holds  it.  Therefore,  a 
minority  submits  to  the  verdict  of  a  majority  at  the 
polls.  If  there  is  not  an  intelligent,  powerful  fighting 
unit  back  of  the  scrap  of  paper  that  falls  into  a  box, 
there's  nothing  there  and  that  man's  ballot  has  no  more 
meaning  than  if  it  had  been  deposited  by  a  trained  pig1 
or  a  dog. 

On  the  day  of  this  fated  election  the  little  Scalawag 
Governor  sat  in  the  Capitol,  the  picture  of  nervous 
despair.  Since  sunrise  his  office  had  been  flooded  with 
messages  from  every  quarter  of  the  state  begging  too 
late  for  troops.  Everywhere  his  henchmen  were  in  a 
panic.  From  every  quarter  the  stories  were  the 
same. 

Hundreds  of  determined,  silent  white  men  had 
crowded  the  polls,  taken  their  own  time  to  vote  and 
refused  to  give  an  inch  of  room  to  the  long  line  of 
panic-stricken  negroes  who  looked  on  helplessly.  At 
five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  less  than  a  hundred  blacks 

87 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

had  voted  in  the  entire  township  in  which  the  Capital 
was  located. 

Norton  was  a  candidate  for  the  Legislature  on  the 
white  ticket,  and  the  Governor  had  bent  every  effort  to 
bring  about  his  defeat.  The  candidate  against  him  was 
a  young  negro  who  had  been  a  slave  of  his  father,  and 
now  called  himself  Andy  Norton.  Andy  had  been  a 
house-servant,  was  exactly  the  major's  age  and  they 
had  been  playmates  before  the  war.  He  was  endowed 
with  a  stentorian  voice  and  a  passion  for  oratory.  He 
had  acquired  a  reputation  for  smartness,  was  good- 
natured,  loud-mouthed,  could  tell  a  story,  play  the 
banjo  and  amuse  a  crowrd.  He  had  been  Norton's  body- 
servant  the  first  year  of  the  war. 

The  Governor  relied  on  Andy  to  swing  a  resistless 
tide  of  negro  votes  for  the  ticket  and  sweep  the  county. 
Under  ordinary  conditions,  he  would  have  done  it.  But 
before  the  hurricane  of  fury  that  swept  the  white  race  on 
the  day  of  the  election,  the  voice  of  Andy  was  as  one 
crying  in  the  wilderness. 

He  had  made  three  speeches  to  his  crowd  of  helpless 
black  voters  who  hadn't  been  able  to  vote.  The  Gov 
ernor  sent  him  an  urgent  message  to  mass  his  men  and 
force  their  way  to  the  ballot  box. 

The  polling  place  was  under  a  great  oak  that  grew 
in  the  Square  beside  the  Court  House.  A  space  had 
been  roped  off  to  guard  the  approach  to  the  boxes. 
Since  sunrise  this  space  had  been  packed  solid  with  a 
living  wall  of  white  men.  Occasionally  a  well-known  old 
negro  of  good  character  was  allowed  to  pass  through 
and  vote  and  then  the  lines  closed  up  in  solid  ranks. 

One  by  one  a  new  white  man  was  allowed  to  take  his 
place  in  this  wall  and  gradually  he  was  moved  up  to 

88 


A    NEW    WEAPON 


the  tables  on  which  the  boxes  rested,  voted,  and  slowly, 
like  the  movement  of  a  glacier,  the  line  crowded  on  in 
its  endless  circle. 

The  outer  part  of  this  wall  of  defense  which  the  white 
race  had  erected  around  the  polling  place  was  held 
throughout  the  day  by  the  same  men — twenty  or  thirty 
big,  stolid,  dogged  countrymen,  who  said  nothing,  but 
every  now  and  then  winked  at  each  other. 

When  Andy  received  the  Governor's  message  he  de 
cided  to  distinguish  himself.  It  was  late  in  the  day,  but 
not  too  late  perhaps  to  win  by  a  successful  assault.  He 
picked  out  twenty  of  his  strongest  buck  negroes,  moved 
them  quietly  to  a  good  position  near  the  polls,  formed 
them  into  a  flying  wedge,  and,  leading  the  assault  in 
person  with  a  loud  good-natured  laugh,  he  hurled  them 
against  the  outer  line  of  whites. 

To  Andy's  surprise  the  double  line  opened  and 
yielded  to  his  onset.  He  had  forced  a  dozen  negroes 
into  the  ranks  when  to  his  surprise  the  white  walls  sud 
denly  closed  on  the  blacks  and  held  them  as  in  a  steel 
trap. 

And  then,  quick  as  a  flash,  something  happened.  It 
was  a  month  before  the  negroes  found  out  exactly  what 
it  was.  They  didn't  see  it,  they  couldn't  hear  it,  but 
they  knew  it  happened.  They  felt  it. 

And  the  silent  swiftness  with  which  it  happened  was 
appalling.  Every  negro  who  had  penetrated  the  white 
wall  suddenly  leaped  into  the  air  with  a  yell  of  terror. 
The  white  line  opened  quickly  and  to  a  man  the  negro 
wedge  broke  and  ran  for  life,  each  black  hand  clasped 
in  agony  on  the  same  spot. 

Andy's  voice  rang  full  and  clear  above  his  men's: 

"Goddermighty,  what's  dat!" 

89 


THE  SINS   OF  THE   FATHER 

"Dey  shot  us,  man !"  screamed  a  negro. 

The  thing  was  simple,  almost  childlike  in  its  silliness, 
but  it  was  tremendously  effective.  The  white  guard  in 
the  outer  line  had  each  been  armed  with  a  little  piece 
of  shining  steel  three  inches  long,  fixed  in  a  handle — a 
plain  shoemaker's  pegging  awl.  At  a  given  signal  they 
had  wheeled  and  thrust  these  awls  into  the  thick  flesh 
of  every  negro's  thigh. 

The  attack  was  so  sudden,  so  unexpected,  and  the 
pain  so  sharp,  so  terrible,  for  the  moment  every  negro's 
soul  was  possessed  with  a  single  idea,  how  to  save  his 
particular  skin  and  do  it  quickest.  All  esprit  de  corps 
was  gone.  It  was  each  for  himself  and  the  devil  take 
the  hindmost!  Some  of  them  never  stopped  running 
until  they  cleared  Buffalo  creek,  three  miles  out  of  town. 

Andy's  ambitions  were  given  a  violent  turn  in  a  new 
direction.  Before  the  polls  closed  at  sundown  he  ap 
peared  at  the  office  of  the  Eagle  and  Phoenix  with  a 
broad  grin  on  his  face  and  asked  to  see  the  major. 

He  entered  the  editor's  room  bowing  and  scraping, 
his  white  teeth  gleaming. 

Norton  laughed  and  quietly  said: 

"Well,  Andy?" 

"Yassah,  major,  I  des  drap  roun'  ter  kinder  facilitate 
ye,  sah,  on  de  'lection,  sah." 

"It  does  look  like  the  tide  is  turning,  Andy." 

"Yassah,  hit  sho'  is  turnin',  but  hit's  gotter  be  a 
purty  quick  tide  dat  kin  turn  afore  I  does,  sah." 

"Yes?" 

"Yassah!  And  I  drap  in,  major,  ter  'splain  ter  you 
dat  I'se  gwine  ter  gently  draw  outen  politics,  yassah. 
I  makes  up  my  min'  ter  hitch  up  wid  de  white  folks 
agin.  Brought  up  by  de  Nortons,  sah,  I'se  always  bin 

90 


A   NEW   WEAPON 


a  gemman,  an'  I  can't  afford  to  smut  my  hands  wid  de 
crowd  dat  I  been  'sociating  wid.  I'se  glad  you  winnin' 
dis  'lection,  sah,  an'  I'se  glad  you  gwine  ter  de  Legisla 
ture — anyhow  de  office  gwine  ter  stay  in  de  Norton 
fambly — an'  I'se  satisfied,  sah.  I  know  you  gwine  ter 
treat  us  far  an'  squar " 

"If  I'm  elected  I'll  try  to  represent  all  the  people, 
Andy,"  the  major  said  gravely. 

"If  you'se  'lected?"  Andy  laughed.  "Lawd,  man, 
you'se  dar  right  now!  I  kin  des  see  you  settin'  in  one 
dem  big  chairs !  I  knowed  it  quick  as  I  feel  dat  thing 
pop  fro  my  backbone  des  now!  Yassah,  I  done  re 
signed,  an'  I  thought,  major,  maybe  you  got  a  job 
'bout  de  office  or  'bout  de  house  fer  er  young  likely 
nigger  'bout  my  size?" 

The  editor  smiled: 

"Nothing  just  now,  Andy,  but  possibly  I  can  find 
a  place  for  you  in  a  few  days." 

"Thankee,  sah.  I'll  hold  off  den  till  you  wants  me. 
I'll  des  pick  up  er  few  odd  jobs  till  you  say  de  word — 
you  won't  fergit  me?" 

"No.     I'll  remember." 

"An',  major,  ef  you  kin  des  advance  me  'bout  er  dol 
lar  on  my  wages  now,  I  kin  cheer  myself  up  ter-night 
wid  er  good  dinner.  Dese  here  loafers  done  bust  me. 
I  hain't  got  er  nickel  lef !" 

The  major  laughed  heartily  and  "advanced"  his  rival 
for  Legislative  honors  a  dollar. 

Andy  bowed  to  the  floor: 

"Any  time  you'se  ready,  major,  des  lemme  know,  sah. 
You'll  fin'  me  a  handy  man  'bout  de  house,  sah." 

"All  right,  Andy,  I  may  need  you  soon." 

"Yassah,  de  sooner  de  better,  sah,"  he  paused  in  the 

91 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

door.  "Dey  gotter  get  up  soon  in  de  mornin',  sah,  ter 
get  erhead  er  us  Nortons — yassah,  dat  dey  is " 

A  message,  the  first  news  of  the  election,  cut  Andy's 
gabble  short.  It  spelled  Victory!  One  after  another 
,they  came  from  every  direction — north,  south,  east  and 
west — each  bringing  the  same  magic  word — victory! 
victory !  A  state  redeemed  from  negroid  corruption !  A 
great  state  once  more  in  the  hands  of  the  children  of  the 
men  who  created  it! 

It  had  only  been  necessary  to  use  force  to  hold  the 
polls  from  hordes  of  ignorant  negroes  in  the  densest 
of  the  black  counties.  The  white  majorities  would  be 
unprecedented.  The  enthusiasm  had  reached  the  pitch 
of  mania  in  these  counties.  They  would  all  break  rec 
ords. 

A  few  daring  men  in  the  black  centres  of  population, 
where  negro  rule  was  at  its  worst,  had  guarded  the 
polls  under  his  direction  armed  with  the  simple  device 
of  a  shoemaker's  awl,  and  in  every  case  where  it  had 
been  used  the  resulting  terror  had  cleared  the  place 
of  every  negro.  In  not  a  single  case  where  this  novel 
weapon  had  been  suddenly  and  mysteriously  thrust  into 
a  black  skin  was  there  an  attempt  to  return  to  the  polls. 
A  long-suffering  people,  driven  at  last  to  desperation, 
had  met  force  with  force  and  wrested  a  commonwealth 
from  the  clutches  of  the  vandals  who  were  looting  and 
disgracing  it. 

Now  he  would  call  the  little  Scalawag  to  the  bar  of 
justice. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  WORDS  THAT   COST 

IT  was  after  midnight  when  Norton  closed  his  desk 
and  left  for  home.  Bonfires  were  burning  in  the 
squares,  bands  were  playing  and  hundreds  of  sober, 
gray-haired  men  were  marching  through  the  streets, 
hand  in  hand  with  shouting  boys,  cheering,  cheering, 
forever  cheering!  He  had  made  three  speeches  from 
the  steps  of  the  Eagle  and  Phoenix  building  and  the 
crowds  still  stood  there  yelling  his  name  and  cheering. 
Broad-shouldered,  bronzed  men  had  rushed  into  his 
office  one  by  one  that  night,  hugged  him  and  wrung 
his  hands  until  they  ached.  He  must  have  rest.  The 
strain  had  been  terrific  and  in  the  reaction  he  was 
pitifully  tired. 

The  lights  were  still  burning  in  his  wife's  room.  She 
was  waiting  with  Cleo  for  his  return.  He  had  sent  her 
the  bulletins  as  they  had  come  and  she  knew  the  result 
of  the  election  almost  as  soon  as  he.  It  was  something 
very  unusual  that  she  should  remain  up  so  late.  The 
doctor  had  positively  forbidden  it  since  her  last  attack. 

"Cleo  and  I  were  watching  the  procession,"  she  ex 
claimed.  "I  never  saw  so  many  crazy  people  since  I 
was  born." 

"They've  had  enough  to  drive  them  mad  the  past 
two  years,  God  knows,"  he  answered,  as  his  eye  rested 
on  Cleo,  who  was  dressed  in  an  old  silk  kimono  belong- 

93 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

ing  to  his  wife,  which  a  friend  of  her  grandfather  had 
sent  her  from  Japan. 

She  saw  his  look  of  surprise  and  said  casually : 

"I  gave  it  to  Cleo.  I  never  liked  the  color.  Cleo's 
to  stay  in  the  house  hereafter.  I've  moved  her  things 
from  the  servants'  quarters  to  the  little  room  in  the 
hall.  I  want  her  near  me  at  night.  You  stay  so  late 
sometimes." 

He  made  no  answer,  but  the  keen  eyes  of  the  girl 
saw  the  silent  rage  flashing  from  his  eyes  and  caught 
the  look  of  fierce  determination  as  he  squared  his  shoul 
ders  and  gazed  at  her  for  a  moment.  She  knew  that  he 
would  put  her  out  unless  she  could  win  his  consent. 
She  had  made  up  her  mind  to  fight  and  never  for  a 
moment  did  she  accept  the  possibility  of  defeat. 

He  muttered  an  incoherent  answer  to  his  wife,  kissed 
her  good  night,  and  went  to  his  room.  He  sat  down 
in  the  moonlight  beside  the  open  window,  lighted  a  cigar 
and  gazed  out  on  the  beautiful  lawn. 

His  soul  raged  in  fury  over  the  blind  folly  of  his 
wife.  If  the  devil  himself  had  ruled  the  world  he  could 
not  have  contrived  more  skillfully  to  throw  this  danger 
ous,  sensuous  young  animal  in  his  way.  It  was  horrible ! 
He  felt  himself  suffocating  with  the  thought  of  its  possi 
bilities  !  He  rose  and  paced  the  floor  and  sat  down 
again  in  helpless  rage. 

The  door  softly  opened  and  closed  and  the  girl  stood 
before  him  in  the  white  moonlight,  her  rounded  figure 
plainly  showing  against  the  shimmering  kimono  as  the 
breeze  through  the  window  pressed  the  delicate  silk 
against  her  flesh. 

He  turned  on  her  angrily: 

"How  dare  you?" 

94 


How  dare  you?  ' 


THE   WORDS   THAT   COST 

"Why,  I  haven't  done  anything,  major!"  she  an 
swered  softly.  "I  just  came  in  to  pick  up  that  basket 
of  trash  I  forgot  this  morning" — she  spoke  in  low, 
lingering  tones. 

He  rose,  walked  in  front  of  her,  looked  her  in  the  eye 
and  quietly  said: 

"You're  lying." 

"Why,   major " 

"You  know  that  you  are  lying.  Now  get  out  of  this 
room — and  stay  out  of  it,  do  you  hear?" 

"Yes,  I  hear,"  came  the  answer  that  was  half  a  sob. 

"And  make  up  your  mind  to  leave  this  place  to-mor 
row,  or  I'll  put  you  out,  if  I  have  to  throw  you  head 
foremost  into  the  street." 

She  took  a  step  backward,  shook  her  head  and  the 
mass  of  tangled  red  hair  fell  from  its  coil  and  dropped 
on  her  shoulders.  Her  eyes  were  watching  him  now 
with  dumb  passionate  yearning. 

"Get  out!"  he  ordered  brutally. 

A  moment's  silence  and  a  low  laugh  was  her  answer. 

"Why  do  you  hate  me  ?"  she  asked  the  question  with  a 
note  of  triumph. 

"I  don't,"  he  replied  with  a  sneer. 

"Then  you're  afraid  of  me!" 

"Afraid  of  you?" 

"Yes." 

He  took  another  step  and  towered  above  her,  his 
fists  clenched  and  his  whole  being  trembled  with 
anger : 

"I'd  like  to  strangle  you !" 

She  flung  back  her  rounded  throat,  shook  the  long 
waves  of  hair  down  her  back  and  lifted  her  eyes  to 
his: 

95 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

"Do  it!  There's  my  throat!  I  want  you  to.  I 
wouldn't  mind  dying  that  way!" 

He  drew  a  deep  breath  and  turned  away. 

With  a  sob  the  straight  figure  suddenly  crumpled  on 
the  floor,  a  scarlet  heap  in  the  moonlight.  She  buried 
her  face  in  her  hands,  choked  back  the  cries,  fought  for 
self-control,  and  then  looked  up  at  him  through  her 
eyes  half  blinded  by  tears : 

"Oh,  what's  the  use !  I  won't  lie  any  more.  I  didn't 
come  in  here  for  the  basket.  I  came  to  see  you.  I  came 
to  beg  you  to  let  me  stay.  I  watched  you  to-night 
when  she  told  you  that  I  was  to  sleep  in  that  room  there, 
and  I  knew  you  were  going  to  send  me  away.  Please 
don't!  Please  let  me  stay!  I  can  do  you  no  harm, 
major!  I'll  be  wise,  humble,  obedient.  I'll  live  only 
to  please  you.  I  haven't  a  single  friend  in  the  world. 
I  hate  negroes.  I  loathe  poor  white  trash.  This  is 
my  place,  here  in  your  home,  among  the  birds  and 
flowers,  with  your  baby  in  my  arms.  You  know  that 
I  love  him  and  that  he  loves  me.  I'll  work  for  you 
as  no  one  else  on  earth  would.  My  hands  will  be 
quick  and  my  feet  swift.  I'll  be  your  slave,  your  dog 
— you  can  kick  me,  beat  me,  strangle  me,  kill  me 
'  if  you  like,  but  don't  send  me  away — I — I  can't 
help  loving  you!  Please — please  don't  drive  me 
away." 

The  passionate,  throbbing  voice  broke  into  a  sob  and 
she  touched  his  foot  with  her  hand.  He  could  feel  the 
warmth  of  the  soft,  young  flesh.  He  stooped  and 
drew  her  to  her  feet. 

"Come,  child,"  he  said  with  a  queer  hitch  in  his 
voice,  "you — you — mustn't  stay  here  another  moment. 

I'm  sorry " 

96 


THE   WORDS   THAT   COST 

She  clung  to  his  hand  with  desperate  pleading  and 
pressed  close  to  him : 

"But  you  won't  send  me  away?" 

She  could  feel  him  trembling. 

He  hesitated,  and  then  against  the  warning  of  con 
science,  reason,  judgment  and  every  instinct  of  law  and 
self-preservation,  he  spoke  the  words  that  cost  so  much : 

"No — I — I — won't  send  you  away !" 

With  a  sob  of  gratitude  her  head  sank,  the  hot  lips 
touched  his  hand,  a  rustle  of  silk  and  she  was  gone. 

And  through  every  hour  of  the  long  night,  maddened 
by  the  consciousness  of  her  physical  nearness — he  im 
agined  at  times  he  could  hear  her  breathing  in  the  next 
room — he  lay  awake  and  fought  the  Beast  for  the 
mastery  of  life. 


CHAPTER  X 

MAN  TO  MAN 

CLEO  made  good  her  vow  of  perfect  service.  In  the 
weeks  which  followed  she  made  herself  practically  in 
dispensable.  Her  energy  was  exhaustless,  her  strength 
tireless.  She  not  only  kept  the  baby  and  the  little 
mother  happy,  she  watched  the  lawn  and  the  flowers. 
The  men  did  no  more  loafing.  The  grass  was  cut,  the 
hedges  trimmed,  every  dead  limb  from  shrub  and  tree 
removed  and  the  old  place  began  to  smile  with  new  life. 

Her  work  of  housekeeper  and  maid-of-all-work  was 
a  marvel  of  efficiency.  No  orders  were  ever  given  to 
her.  They  were  unnecessary.  She  knew  by  an  unerring 
instinct  what  was  needed  and  anticipated  the  need. 

And  then  a  thing  happened  that  fixed  her  place  in 
the  house  on  the  firmest  basis. 

The  baby  had  taken  a  violent  cold  which  quickly  de 
veloped  into  pneumonia.  The  doctor  looked  at  the  lit 
tle  red  fever-scorched  face  and  parched  lips  with  grave 
silence.  He  spoke  at  last  with  positive  conviction: 

"His  life  depends  on  a  nurse,  Norton.  All  I  can  do 
is  to  give  orders.  The  nurse  must  save  him." 

With  a  sob  in  her  voice,  Cleo  said: 

"Let  me — I'll  save  him.  He  can't  die  if  it  depends 
on  that." 

The  doctor  turned  to  the  mother. 

"Can  you  trust  her?" 

98 


MAN   TO   MAN 


"Absolutely.  She's  quick,  strong,  faithful,  careful, 
and  she  loves  him." 

"You  agree,  major?" 

"Yes,  we  couldn't  do  better,"  he  answered  gravely, 
turning  away. 

And  so  the  precious  life  was  given  into  her  hands. 
Norton  spent  the  mornings  in  the  nursery  executing  the 
doctor's  orders  with  clock-like  regularity,  while  Cleo 
slept.  At  noon  she  quietly  entered  and  took  his  place. 
Her  meals  were  served  in  the  room  and  she  never  left  it 
until  he  relieved  her  the  next  day.  The  tireless,  green 
ish  eyes  watched  the  cradle  with  death-like  stillness  and 
her  keen  young  ears  bent  low  to  catch  every  change 
in  the  rising  and  falling  of  the  little  breast.  Through 
the  long  watches  of  the  night,  the  quick  alert  figure 
with  the  velvet  tread  hurried  about  the  room  filling 
every  order  with  skill  and  patience. 

At  the  end  of  two  weeks,  the  doctor  smiled,  patted 
her  on  the  shoulder  and  said: 

"You're  a  great  nurse,  little  girl.  You've  saved  his 
life." 

Her  head  was  bending  low  over  the  cradle,  the  baby 
reached  up  his  hand,  caught  one  of  her  red  curls  and 
lisped  faintly: 

"C-l-e-o !" 

Her  eyes  were  shining  with  tears  as  she  rushed  from 
the  room  and  out  on  the  lawn  to  have  her  cry  alone. 
There  could  be  no  question  after  this  of  her  position. 

When  the  new  Legislature  met  in  the  old  Capitol 
building  four  months  later,  it  was  in  the  atmosphere  of 
the  crisp  clearness  that  follows  the  storm.  The  thieves 
and  vultures  had  winged  their  way  to  more  congenial 
climes.  They  dared  not  face  the  investigation  of  their 

99  v 


THE  SINS   OF  THE   FATHER 

saturnalia  which  the  restored  white  race  would  make. 
The  wisest  among  them  fled  northward  on  the  night  of 
the  election. 

The  Governor  couldn't  run.  His  term  of  office  had 
two  years  more  to  be  filled.  And  shivering  in  his  room 
alone,  shunned  as  a  pariah,  he  awaited  the  assault  of 
his  triumphant  foes. 

And  nothing  succeeds  like  success.  The  brilliant 
young  editor  of  the  Eagle  and  Phoenix  was  the  man  of 
the  hour.  When  he  entered  the  hall  of  the  House  of 
Representatives  on  the  day  the  Assembly  met,  pande 
monium  broke  loose.  A  shout  rose  from  the  floor  that 
fairly  shook  the  old  granite  pile.  Cheer  after  cheer  rent 
the  air,  echoed  and  re-echoed  through  the  vaulted  arches 
of  the  hall.  Men  overturned  their  desks  and  chairs  as 
they  rushed  pellmell  to  seize  his  hand.  They  lifted 
him  on  their  shoulders  and  carried  him  in  procession 
around  the  Assembly  Chamber,  through  the  corridors 
and  around  the  circle  of  the  Rotunda,  cheering  like 
madmen,  and  on  through  the  Senate  Chamber  where 
every  white  Senator  joined  the  procession  and  returned 
to  the  other  end  of  the  Capitol  singing  "Dixie"  and 
shouting  themselves  hoarse. 

He  was  elected  Speaker  of  the  House  by  his  party 
without  a  dissenting  voice,  and  the  first  words  that  fell 
from  his  lips  as  he  ascended  the  dais,  gazed  over  the 
cheering  House,  and  rapped  sharply  for  order,  sounded 
the  death  knell  to  the  hopes  of  the  Governor  for  a  com 
promise  with  his  enemies.  His  voice  rang  clear  and  cold 
as  the  notes  of  a  bugle: 

"The  first  business  before  this  House,  gentlemen,  is 
the  impeachment  and  removal  from  office  of  the  alleged 
Governor  of  this  state!" 

100 


MAN   TO   MAN- 


Again  the  long  pent  feeling's .  o/  an 'outraged  people 
passed  all  bounds.  In  vain  the  tall  figure  in  the  chair 
rapped  for  order.  He  had  as  well  tried  to  call  a  cyclone 
to  order  by  hammering  at  it  with  a  gavel.  Shout  after 
shout,  cheer  after  cheer,  shout  and  cheer  in  apparently 
unending  succession! 

They  had  not  only  won  a  great  victory  and  redeemed 
a  state's  honor,  but  they  had  found  a  leader  who  dared 
to  lead  in  the  work  of  cleansing  and  rebuilding  the  old 
commonwealth.  It  was  ten  minutes  before  order  could 
be  restored.  And  then  with  merciless  precision  the 
Speaker  put  in  motion  the  legal  machine  that  was  to 
crush  the  life  out  of  the  little  Scalawag  who  sat  in  his 
room  below  and  listened  to  the  roar  of  the  storm  over 
his  head. 

On  the  day  the  historic  trial  opened  before  the  high 
tribunal  of  the  Senate,  sitting  as  judges,  with  the  Chief 
Justice  of  the  state  as  presiding  officer,  the  Governor 
looked  in  vain  for  a  friendly  face  among  his  accusers. 
Now  that  he  was  down,  even  the  dogs  in  his  own  party 
whom  he  had  reared  and  fed,  men  who  had  waxed  fat  on 
the  spoils  he  had  thrown  them,  were  barking  at  his 
heels.  They  accused  him  of  being  the  cause  of  the 
party's  downfall. 

The  Governor  had  quickly  made  up  his  mind  to  ask  no 
favors  of  these  wretches.  If  the  blow  should  fall,  he 
knew  to  whom  he  would  appeal  that  it  might  be 
tempered  with  mercy.  The  men  of  his  discredited  party 
were  of  his  own  type.  His  only  chance  lay  in  the  gen 
erosity  of  a  great  foe. 

It  would  be  a  bitter  thing  to  beg  a  favor  at  the  hands 
of  the  editor  who  had  hounded  him  with  his  merciless 
pen  from  the  day  he  had  entered  office,  but  it  would  be 

101 


THE  SIN'S  OF   THE   FATHER 

easier  'than/ aft  appeal  to-, the  ungrateful  hounds  of  his 
own  "kennel  who  had  deserted  him  in  his  hour  of  need. 

The  Bill  of  Impeachment  which  charged  him  with 
high  crimes  and  misdemeanors  against  the  people  whose 
•f  rights  he  had  sworn  to  defend  was  drawn  by  the  Speaker 
of  the  House,  and  it  was  a  terrible  document.  It  would 
not  only  deprive  him  of  his  great  office,  but  strip  him  of 
citizenship,  and  send  him  from  the  Capitol  a  branded 
man  for  life. 

The  defense  proved  weak  and  the  terrific  assaults  of 
the  Impeachment  managers  under  Norton's  leadership 
resistless.  Step  by  step  the  remorseless  prosecutors 
closed  in  on  the  doomed  culprit.  Each  day  he  sat  in 
his  place  beside  his  counsel  in  the  thronged  Senate 
Chamber  and  heard  his  judges  vote  with  practical 
unanimity  "Guilty"  on  a  new  count  in  the  Bill  of  Im 
peachment.  The  Chief  Executive  of  a  million  people 
cowered  in  his  seat  while  his  accusers  told  and  re-told 
the  story  of  his  crimes  and  the  packed  galleries  cheered. 

But  one  clause  of  the  bill  remained  to  be  adjudged — 
the  brand  his  accusers  proposed  to  put  upon  his  fore 
head.  His  final  penalty  should  be  the  loss  of  citizenship. 
It  was  more  than  the  Governor  could  bear.  He  begged 
an  adjournment  of  the  High  Court  for  a  conference 
with  his  attorneys  and  it  was  granted. 

He  immediately  sought  the  Speaker,  who  made  no 
•effort  to  conceal  the  contempt  in  which  he  held  the 
trembling  petitioner. 

"I've  come  to  you,  Major  Norton,"  he  began  falter- 
ingly,  "in  the  darkest  hour  of  my  life.  I've  come  be 
cause  I  know  that  you  are  a  brave  and  generous  man. 
I  appeal  to  your  generosity.  I've  made  mistakes  in 
my  administration.  But  I  ask  you  to  remember  that 


MAN  TO  MAN 


few  men  in  my  place  could  have  done  better.  I  was 
set  to  make  bricks  without  straw.  I  was  told  to  make 
water  run  up  hill  and  set  at  naught  the  law  of  gravita 
tion. 

"I  struck  at  you  personally — yes — but  remember  my 
provocation.  You  made  me  the  target  of  your  merci 
less  ridicule,  wit  and  invective  for  two  years.  It  was 
more  than  flesh  and  blood  could  bear  without  a  return 
blow.  Put  yourself  in  my  place " 

"I've  tried,  Governor,"  Norton  interrupted  in  kindly 
tones.  "And  it's  inconceivable  to  me  that  any  man 
born  and  bred  as  you  have  been,  among  the  best  people 
of  the  South,  a  man  whose  fiery  speeches  in  the  Seces 
sion  Convention  helped  to  plunge  this  state  into  civil 
war — how  you  could  basely  betray  your  own  flesh  and 
blood  in  the  hour  of  their  sorest  need — it's  beyond  me ! 
I  can't  understand  it.  I've  tried  to  put  myself  in  your 
place  and  I  can't." 

The  little  ferret  eyes  were  dim  as  he  edged  toward 
the  tall  figure  of  his  accuser: 

"I'm  not  asking  of  you  mercy,  Major  Norton,  on  the 
main  issue.  I  understand  the  bitterness  in  the  hearts 
of  these  men  who  sit  as  my  judges  to-day.  I  make  no 
fight  to  retain  the  office  of  Governor,  but — major" — his 
thin  voice  broke — "it's  too  hard  to  brand  me  a  criminal 
by  depriving  me  of  my  citizenship  and  the  right  to  vote, 
and  hurl  me  from  the  highest  office  within  the  gift  of  a 
great  people  a  nameless  thing,  a  man  without  a  coun 
try!  Come,  sir,  even  if  all  you  say  is  true,  justice  may 
be  tempered  with  mercy.  Great  minds  can  understand 
this.  You  are  the  representative  to-day  of  a  brave 
and  generous  race  of  men.  My  life  is  in  ruins — I  am  at 

jour  feet.     I  have  pride.     I  had  high  ambitions " 

103 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

His  voice  broke,  he  paused,  and  then  continued  in 
strained  tones : 

"I  have  loved  ones  to  whom  this  shame  will  come  as  a 
bolt  from  the  clear  sky.  They  know  nothing  of  poli 
tics.  They  simply  love  me.  This  final  ignominy  you 
would  heap  on  my  head  may  be  just  from  your  point  of 
view.  But  is  it  necessary?  Can  it  serve  any  good  pur 
pose?  Is  it  not  mere  wanton  cruelty? 

"Come  now,  man  to  man — our  masks  are  off — my 
day  is  done.  You  are  young.  The  world  is  yours. 
This  last  blow  with  which  you  would  crush  my  spirit  is 
too  cruel!  Can  you  afford  an  act  of  such  wanton 
cruelty  in  the  hour  of  your  triumph?  A  small  man 
could,  yes — but  you?  I  appeal  to  the  best  that's  in 
you,  to  the  spark  of  God  that's  in  every  human 
soul -" 

Norton  was  deeply  touched,  far  more  than  he 
dreamed  &i*y  word  from  the  man  he  hated  could  ever  stir 
him.  The  governor  saw  his  hesitation  and  pressed  his 
cause: 

"I  might  -say  many  things  honestly  in  justification 
of  my  course  in  politics ;  but  the  time  has  not  come. 
When  passions  have  cooled  and  we  can  look  the  stirring 
events  of  these  years  squarely  in  the  face — there'll  be 
two  sides  to  this  question,  major,  as  there  are  two  sides 
to  all  questions.  I  might  say  to  you  that  when  I  saw 
the  frightful  blunder  I  had  made  in  helping  to  plunge 
our  country  into  a  fatal  war,  I  tried  to  make  good  my 
mistake  and  went  to  the  other  extreme.  I  was  ambi 
tious,  yes,  but  we  are  confronted  with  millions  of  igno 
rant  negroes.  What  can  we  do  with  them?  Slavery 
had  an  answer.  Democracy  now  must  give  the  true 

answer  or  perish " 

104 


MAN   TO   MAN 


"That  answer  will  never  be  to  set  these  negroes  up 
as  rulers  over  white  men !" 

Norton  raised  his  hand  and  spoke  with  bitter  em 
phasis. 

"Even  so,  in  a  Democracy  with  equality  as  the  one 
fundamental  law  of  life,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with 
them?  I  could  plead  with  you  that  in  every  act  of  my 
ill-fated  administration  I  was  honestly,  in  the  fear  of 
God,  trying  to  meet  and  solve  this  apparently  insoluble 
problem.  You  are  now  in  power.  What  are  you  going 
to  do  with  these  negroes?" 

"Send  them  back  to  the  plow  first,"  was  the  quick 
answer. 

"All  right;  when  they  have  bought  those  farms  and 
their  sons  and  daughters  are  rich  and  cultured — what 
then?" 

"We'll  answer  that  question,  Governor,  when  the  time 
comes." 

"Remember,  major,  that  you  have  no  answer  to  it 
now,  and  in  the  pride  of  your  heart  to-day  let  me  sug^ 
gest  that  you  deal  charitably  with  one  who  honestly 
tried  to  find  the  answer  when  called  to  rule  over  both 
races. 

"I  have  failed,  I  grant  you.  I  have  made  mistakes, 
I  grant  you.  Won't  you  accept  my  humility  in  this 
hour  in  part  atonement  for  my  mistakes  ?  I  stand  alone 
before  you,  my  bitterest  and  most  powerful  enemy,  be 
cause  I  believe  in  the  strength  and  nobility  of  your 
character.  You  are  my  only  hope.  I  am  before  you, 
broken,  crushed,  humiliated,  deserted,  friendless — at 
your  mercy !" 

The  last  appeal  stirred  the  soul  of  the  young  editor 
to  its  depths.  He  was  surprised  and  shocked  to  find 

105 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

the  man  he  had  so  long  ridiculed  and  hated  so  thor 
oughly,  human  and  appealing  in  his  hour  of  need. 

He  spoke  with  a  kindly  deliberation  he  had  never 
dreamed  it  possible  to  use  with  this  man. 

"I'm  sorry  for  you,  Governor.  Your  appeal  is  to 
me  a  very  eloquent  one.  It  has  opened  a  new  view  of 
your  character.  I  can  never  again  say  bitter,  merciless 
things  about  you  in  my  paper.  You  have  disarmed  me. 
But  as  the  leader  of  my  race,  in  the  crisis  through 
which  we  are  passing,  I  feel  that  a  great  responsibility 
has  been  placed  on  me.  Now  that  we  have  met,  with 
bared  souls  in  this  solemn  hour,  let  me  say  that  I  have 
learned  to  like  you  better  than  I  ever  thought  it  possi 
ble.  But  I  am  to-day  a  judge  who  must  make  his  de 
cision,  remembering  that  the  lives  and  liberties  of  all 
the  people  are  in  his  keeping  when  he  pronounces  the 
sentence  of  law.  A  judge  has  no  right  to  spare  a  man 
who  has  taken  human  life  because  he  is  sorry  for  the 
prisoner.  I  have  no  right,  as  a  leader,  to  suspend  this 
penalty  on  you.  Your  act  in  destroying  the  civil  law, 
arresting  men  without  warrant  and  holding  them  by 
military  force  without  bail  or  date  of  trial,  was,  in 
my  judgment,  a  crime  of  the  highest  rank,  not  merely 
against  me — one  individual  whom  you  happened  to  hate 
— but  against  every  man,  woman  and  child  in  the  state. 
Unless  that  crime  is  punished  another  man,  as  daring 
in  high  office,  may  repeat  it  in  the  future.  I  hold  in 
my  hands  to-day  not  only  the  lives  and  liberties  of  the 
people  you  have  wronged,  but  of  generations  yet  un 
born.  Now  that  I  have  heard  you,  personally  I  am 
sorry  for  you,  but  the  law  must  take  its  course." 

"You  will  deprive  me  of  my  citizenship?"  he  asked 
pathetically. 

106 


MAN  TO  MAN 


"It  is  my  solemn  duty.  And  when  it  is  done  no  Gov 
ernor  will  ever  again  dare  to  repeat  your  crime." 

Norton  turned  away  and  the  Governor  laid  his  trem 
bling  hand  on  his  arm : 

"Your  decision  is  absolutely  final,  Major  Nor 
ton?" 

"Absolutely,"  was  the  firm  reply. 

The  Governor's  shoulders  drooped  lower  as  he  shuf 
fled  from  the  room  and  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  space  as 
he  pushed  his  way  through  the  hostile  crowds  that  filled 
the  corridors  of  the  Capitol. 

The  Court  immediately  reassembled  and  the  Speaker 
rose  to  make  his  motion  for  a  vote  on  the  last  count 
in  the  bill  depriving  the  Chief  Executive  of  the  state  of 
his  citizenship. 

The  silence  was  intense.  The  crowds  that  packed  the 
lobby,  the  galleries,  and  every  inch  of  the  floor  of  the 
Senate  Chamber  expected  a  fierce  speech  of  impassioned 
eloquence  from  their  idolized  leader.  Every  neck  was 
craned  and  breath  held  for  his  first  ringing  words. 

To  their  surprise  he  began  speaking  in  a  low  voice 
choking  with  emotion  and  merely  demanded  a  vote  of 
the  Senate  on  the  final  clause  of  the  bill,  and  the  brown 
eyes  of  the  tall  orator  had  a  suspicious  look  of  moisture 
in  their  depths  as  they  rested  on  the  forlorn  figure  of 
the  little  Scalawag.  The  crowd  caught  the  spirit  of 
solemnity  and  of  pathos  from  the  speaker's  voice  and 
the  vote  was  taken  amid  a  silence  that  was  painful. 

When  the  Clerk  announced  the  result  and  the  Chief 
Justice  of  the  state  declared  the  office  of  Governor  va 
cant  there  was  no  demonstration.  As  the  Lieutenant- 
Governor  ascended  the  dais  and  took  the  oath  of  office, 
the  Scalawag  rose  and  staggered  through  the  crowd 

107 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

that  opened  with  a  look   of  awed  pity  as  he  passed 
from  the  chamber. 

Norton  stepped  to  the  window  behind  the  President 
of  the  Senate  and  watched  the  pathetic  figure  shuffle 
down  the  steps  of  the  Capitol  and  slowly  walk  from  the/ 
grounds.  The  sun  was  shining  in  the  radiant  splendor 
of  early  spring.  The  first  flowers  were  blooming  in  the 
hedges  by  the  walk  and  birds  were  chirping,  chattering 
and  singing  from  every  tree  and  shrub.  A  squirrel 
started  across  the  path  in  front  of  the  drooping  figure, 
stopped,  cocked  his  little  head  to  one  side,  looked  up 
and  ran  to  cover.  But  the  man  with  drooping  shoulders 
saw  nothing.  His  dim  eyes  were  peering  into  the 
shrouded  future. 

Norton  was  deeply  moved. 

"The  judgment  of  posterity  may  deal  kindlier  with 
his  life !"  he  exclaimed.  "Who  knows  ?  A  politician,  a 
trimmer  and  a  time-server — yes,  so  we  all  are  down  in 
our  cowardly  hearts — I'm  sorry  that  it  had  to  be !" 

He  was  thinking  of  a  skeleton  in  his  own  closet 
that  grinned  at  him  sometimes  now  when  he  least  ex 
pected  it. 


•&0 

w^' 


108 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    UNBIDDEN    GUEST 

THE  night  was  a  memorable  one  in  Norton's  life. 
The  members  of  the  Legislature  and  the  leaders  of  his 
party  from  every  quarter  of  the  state  gave  a  banquet 
in  his  honor  in  the  Hall  of  the  House  of  Representa 
tives.  Eight  hundred  guests,  the  flower  and  chivalry 
of  the  Commonwealth,  sat  down  at  the  eighty  tables 
improvised  for  the  occasion. 

Fifty  leading  men  were  guests  of  honor  and  vied 
with  one  another  in  acclaiming  the  brilliant  young 
Speaker  the  coming  statesman  of  the  Nation.  His 
name  was  linked  with  Hamilton,  Jefferson,  Webster, 
Clay  and  Calhoun.  He  was  the  youngest  man  who  had 
ever  been  elected  Speaker  of  a  Legislative  Assembly  in 
American  history  and  a  dazzling  career  was  pre 
dicted. 

Even  the  newly  installed  Chief  Executive,  a  hold-over 
from  the  defeated  party,  asked  to  be  given  a  seat  and 
in  a  glowing  tribute  to  Norton  hailed  him  as  the  next 
Governor  of  the  state. 

He  had  scarcely  uttered  the  words  when  all  the  guests 
leaped  to  their  feet  by  a  common  impulse,  raised  their 
glasses  and  shouted: 

"To  our  next  Governor,  Daniel  Norton!" 

The  cheers  which  followed  were  not  arranged,  they 
were  the  spontaneous  outburst  of  genuine  admiration 

109 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

by  men  and  women  who  knew  the  man  and  believed  in 
his  power  and  his  worth. 

Norton  flushed  and  his  eyes  dropped.  His  daring 
mind  had  already  leaped  the  years.  The  Governor's 
chair  meant  the  next  step — a  seat  in  the  Senate  Cham 
ber  of  the  United  States.  A  quarter  of  a  century  and 
the  South  would  once  more  come  into  her  own.  He 
would  then  be  but  forty-nine  years  old.  He  would  have 
as  good  a  chance  for  the  Presidency  as  any  other  man. 
His  fathers  had  been  of  the  stock  that  created  the 
Nation.  His  great-grandfather  fought  with  Washing 
ton  and  Lafayette.  His  head  was  swimming  with  its 
visions,  while  the  great  Hall  rang  with  his  name. 

While  the  tumult  was  still  at  its  highest,  he  lifted 
his  eyes  for  a  moment  over  the  heads  of  the  throng 
at  the  tables  below  the  platform  on  which  the  guests  of 
honor  were  seated,  and  his  heart  suddenly  stood  still. 

Cleo  was  standing  in  the  door  of  the  Hall,  a  haunted 
look  in  her  dilated  eyes,  watching  her  chance  to  beckon 
to  him  unseen  by  the  crowd. 

He  stared  at  her  a  moment  in  blank  amazement  and 
turned  pale.  Something  had  happened  at  his  home, 
and  by  the  expression  on  her  face  the  message  she 
bore  was  one  he  would  never  forget. 

As  he  sat  staring  blankly,  as  at  a  sudden  apparition, 
she  disappeared  in  the  crowd  at  the  door.  He  looked 
in  vain  for  her  reappearance  and  was  waiting  an  oppor 
tune  moment  to  leave,  when  a  waiter  slipped  through 
the  mass  of  palms  and  flowers  banked  behind  his  chair 
by  his  admirers  and  thrust  a  crumpled  note  into  his  hand. 

"The  girl  said  it  was  important,  sir,"  he  explained. 

Norton  opened  the  message  and  held  it  under  the  ban 
quet  table  as  he  hurriedly  read  in  Cleo's  hand : 

110 


THE    UNBIDDEN   GUEST 

"It's  found  out — she's  raving.  The  doctor  is  there.  I 
must  see  you  quick." 

He  whispered  to  the  chairman  that  a  message  had  just 
been  received  announcing  the  illness  of  his  wife,  but  he 
hoped  to  be  able  to  return  in  a  few  minutes. 

It  was  known  that  his  wife  was  an  invalid  and  had 
often  been  stricken  with  violent  attacks  of  hysteria, 
and  so  the  banquet  proceeded  without  interruption. 
The  band  was  asked  to  play  a  stirring  piece  and  he 
slipped  out  as  the  opening  strains  burst  over  the  chat 
tering,  gay  crowd. 

As  his  tall  figure  rose  from  the  seat  of  honor  he 
gazed  for  an  instant  over  the  sparkling  scene,  and  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life  knew  the  meaning  of  the  word 
fear.  A  sickening  horror  swept  his  soul  and  the  fire 
died  from  eyes  that  had  a  moment  before  blazed  with 
visions  of  ambition.  He  felt  the  earth  crumbling  be 
neath  his  feet.  He  hoped  for  a  way  out,  but  from  the 
moment  he  saw  Cleo  beckoning  him  over  the  heads  of  his 
guests  he  knew  that  Death  had  called  him  in  the  hour  -, 
of  his  triumph. 

He  felt  his  way  blindly  through  the  crowd  and  pushed 
roughly  past  a  hundred  hands  extended  to  congratulate 
him.  He  walked  by  instinct.  He  couldn't  see.  The 
mists  of  eternity  seemed  suddenly  to  have  swept  him 
beyond  the  range  of  time  and  sense. 

In  the  hall  he  stumbled  against  Cleo  and  looked  a'. 
her  in  a  dazed  way. 

"Get  your  hat,"  she  whispered. 

He  returned  to  the  cloakroom,  got  his  hat  and 
hurried  back  in  the  same  dull  stupor. 

"Come  down  stairs  into  the  Square,"  she  said  quickly. 
Ill 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

He  followed  her  without  a  word,  and  when  they 
reached  the  shadows  of  an  oak  below  the  windows  of 
the  Hall,  he  suddenly  roused  himselfv  turned  on  her 
fiercely  and  demanded: 

"Well,  what's   happened?" 

The  girl  was  calm  now,  away  from  the  crowd  and 
guarded  by  the  friendly  night.  Her  words  were  cool 
and  touched  with  the  least  suggestion  of  bravado.  She 
looked  at  him  steadily: 

"I  reckon  you  know " 

"You  mean "  He  felt  for  the  tree  trunk  as  if 

dizzy. 

"Yes.     She  has  found  out " 

"What — how — iWhen?"  His  words  came  in  gasps  of 
fear. 

"About  us " 

"How?" 

"It  was  mammy.  She  was  wild  with  jealousy  that  I 
had  taken  her  place  and  was  allowed  to  sleep  in  the 
house.  She  got  to  slipping  to  the  nursery  at  night  and 
watching  me.  She  must  have  seen  me  one  night  at  your 
room  door  and  told  her  to  get  rid  of  me." 

The  man  suddenly  gripped  the  girl's  shoulders,  swung 
her  face  toward  him  and  gazed  into  her  shifting  eyes, 
while  his  breath  came  in  labored  gasps  : 

"You  little  yellow  devil!  Mammy  never  told  that  to 
my  wife  and  you  know  it;  she  would  have  told  me  and 
I  would  have  sent  you  away.  She  knows  that  story 
would  kill  my  baby's  mother  and  she'd  have  cut  the 
tongue  out  of  her  own  head  sooner  than  betray  me. 
She  has  always  loved  me  as  her  own  child — she'd  fight 
for  ine  and  die  for  me  and  stand  for  me  against  every 
man,  woman  and  child  on  earth!" 

IIS 


THE   UNBIDDEN   GUEST 

"Well,  she  told  her,"  the  girl  sullenly  repeated. 

"Told  her  what?"  he  asked. 

"That  I  was  hanging  around  your  room."  She 
paused. 

"Well,  go  on—" 

"Miss  Jean  asked  me  if  it  was  true.  I  saw  that  we 
were  caught  and  I  just  confessed  the  whole  thing " 

The  man  sprang  at  her  throat,  paused,  and  his  hands 
fell  limp  by  his  side.  He  gazed  at  her  a  moment,  and 
grasped  her  wrists  with  cruel  force: 

"Yes,  that's  it,  you  little  fiend — you  confessed!  You 
were  so  afraid  you  might  not  be  forced  to  confess  that 
you  went  out  of  your  way  to  tell  it.  Two  months  ago 
I  came  to  my  senses  and  put  you  out  of  my  life.  You 
deliberately  tried  to  commit  murder  to  bring  me  back. 
You  knew  that  confession  would  kill  my  wife  as  surely 
as  if  you  had  plunged  a  knife  into  her  heart.  You  know 
that  she  has  the  mind  of  an  innocent  child — that  she 
can  think  no  evil  of  any  one.  You've  tried  to  kill  her 
on  purpose,  willfully,  maliciously,  deliberately — and  if 
she  dies " 

Norton's  voice  choked  into  an  inarticulate  groan  and 
the  girl  smiled  calmly. 

The  band  in  the  Hall  over  their  heads  ended  the  music 
in  a  triumphant  crash  and  he  listened  mechanically  to 
the  chairman  while  he  announced  the  temporary  absence 
of  the  guest  of  honor: 

"And  while  he  is  out  of  the  Hall  for  a  few  minutes, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  added  facetiously,  "we  can 
say  a  lot  of  fine  things  behind  his  back  we  would  have 
blushed  to  tell  him  to  his  face " 

Another  burst  of  applause  and  the  hum  and  chatter 
and  laughter  came  through  the  open  window. 

113 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

With  a  cry  of  anguish,  the  man  turned  again  on  the 
girl: 

"Why  do  you  stand  there  grinning  at  me  ?  Why  did 
you  do  this  fiendish  thing?  What  have  you  to  say?" 

"Nothing" — there  was  a  ring  of  exultation  in  her 
voice — "I  did  it  because  I  had  to." 

Norton  leaned  against  the  oak,  placed  his  hands 
on  his  temples  and  groaned: 

"Oh,  my  God !    It's  a  nightmare — — " 

Suddenly  he  asked: 

"What  did  she  do  when  you  told  her?" 

The  girl  answered  with  indifference: 

"Screamed,  called  me  a  liar,  jumped  on  me  like  a  wild 
cat,  dug  her  nails  in  my  neck  and  went  into  hysterics." 

"And  you?" 

"I  picked  her  up,  carried  her  to  bed  and  sent  for  the 
doctor.  As  quick  as  he  came  I  ran  here  to  tell  you." 

The  speaker  upstairs  was  again  announcing  his  name 
as  the  next  Governor  and  Senator  and  the  crowd  were 
cheering.  He  felt  the  waves  of  Death  roll  over  and  en 
gulf  him.  His  knees  grew  weak  and  in  spite  of  all 
effort  he  sank  to  a  stone  that  lay  against  the  gnarled 
trunk  of  the  tree. 

"She  may  be  dead  now,"  he  said  to  himself  in  a  dazed 
whisper. 

"I  don't  think  so!"  the  soft  voice  purred  with  the 
slightest  suggestion  of  a  sneer.  She  bit  her  lips  and 
actually  laughed.  It  was  more  than  he  could  bear. 
With  a  sudden  leap  his  hands  closed  on  her  throat 
and  forced  her  trembling  form  back  into  the  shadows. 

"May — God — hurl — you — into — everlasting — hell — 
for — this!"  he  cried  in  anguish  and  his  grip  suddenly 
relaxed. 


THE    UNBIDDEN   GUEST 

The  girl  had  not  struggled.  Her  own  hand  had 
simply  been  raised  instinctively  and  grasped  his. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  she  asked. 

"Get  out  of  my  sight  before  I  kill  you !" 

"I'm  not  afraid." 

The  calm  accents  maddened  him  to  uncontrollable 
fury: 

"And  if  you  ever  put  your  foot  into  my  house  again 
or  cross  my  path,  I'll  not  be  responsible  for  what  hap 
pens  !" 

His  face  was  livid  and  his  fists  closed  with  an  uncon 
scious  strength  that  cut  the  blood  from  the  palms  of 
his  hands. 

"I'm  not  afraid!"  she  repeated,  her  voice  rising  with 
clear  assurance,  a  strange  smile  playing  about  her  full 
lips. 

"Go !"  he  said  fiercely. 

The  girl  turned  without  a  word  and  walked  into  the 
bright  light  that  streamed  from  the  windows  of  the  ban 
quet  hall,  paused  and  looked  at  him,  the  white  rows  of 
teeth  shining  with  a  smile: 

"But  I'll  see  you  again !" 

And  then,  with  shouts  of  triumph  mocking  his  soul, 
his  shoulders  drooped,  drunk  with  the  stupor  and  pain 
of  shame,  he  walked  blindly  through  the  night  to  the 
Judgment  Bar  of  Life — a  home  where  a  sobbing  wife 
waited  for  his  coming. 


115 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   JUDGMENT   BAB 

HE  paused  at  the  gate.  His  legs  for  the  moment 
simply  refused  to  go  any  further.  A  light  was  burning 
in  his  wife's  room.  Its  radiance  streaming  against  the 
white  fluted  columns  threw  their  shadows  far  out  on 
the  lawn. 

The  fine  old  house  seemed  to  slowly  melt  in  the  star 
light  into  a  solemn  Court  of  Justice  set  on  the  highest 
hill  of  the  world.  Its  white  boards  were  hewn  slabs  of 
gleaming  marble,  its  quaint  old  Colonial  door  the  grand 
entrance  to  the  Judgment  Hall  of  Life  and  Death. 
And  the  judge  who  sat  on  the  high  dais  was  not  the 
blind  figure  of  tradition,  but  a  blushing  little  bride  he 
had  led  to  God's  altar  four  years  ago.  Her  blue 
eyes  were  burning  into  the  depths  of  his  trembling 
soul. 

His  hand  gripped  the  post  and  he  tried  to  pull  him 
self  together,  and  look  the  ugly  situation  in  the  face. 
But  it  was  too  sudden.  He  had  repented  and  was  liv 
ing  a  clean  life,  and  the  shock  was  so  unexpected,  its 
coming  so  unforeseen,  the  stroke  at  a  moment  when  his 
spirits  had  climbed  so  high,  the  fall  was  too  great. 
He  lay  a  mangled  heap  at  the  foot  of  a  precipice  and 
could  as  yet  only  stretch  out  lame  hands  and  feel  in 
the  dark.  He  could  see  nothing  clearly. 

A  curious  thing  flashed  through  his  benumbed  mind 
116 


THE  JUDGMENT  BAR 


as  his  gaze  fascinated  by  the  light  in  her  room.  She 
had  not  yet  sent  for  him.  He  might  have  passed  a  mes 
senger  on  the  other  side  of  the  street,  or  he  may  have 
gone  to  the  Capitol  by  another  way,  yet  he  was  some 
how  morally  sure  that  no  word  had  as  yet  been  sent.  It 
could  mean  but  one  thing — that  his  wife  had  utterly  re 
fused  to  believe  the  girl's  story.  This  would  make  the 
only  sane  thing  to  do  almost  impossible.  If  he  could 
humbly  confess  the  truth  and  beg  for  her  forgiveness, 
the  cloud  might  be  lifted  and  her  life  saved. 

But  if  she  blindly  refused  to  admit  the  possibility  of 
such  a  sin,  the  crisis  was  one  that  sickened  him.  He 
would  either  be  compelled  to  risk  her  life  with  the  shock 
of  confession,  or  lie  to  her  with  a  shameless  passion  that 
would  convince  her  of  his  innocence. 

Could  he  do  this?  It  was  doubtful.  He  had  never 
been  a  good  liar.  He  had  taken  many  a  whipping  as  a 
boy  sooner  than  lie.  He  had  always  dared  to  tell  the 
truth  and  had  felt  a  cruel  free  joy  somehow  in  its  con 
sequence.  He  had  been  reserved  and  silent  in  his  youth 
when  he  had  sowed  his  wild  oats  before  his  marriage. 
He  had  never  been  forced  to  lie  about  that.  No  ques 
tions  had  been  asked.  He  had  kept  his  own  counsel  and 
that  side  of  his  life  was  a  sealed  book  even  to  his  most 
intimate  friends. 

He  had  never  been  under  the  influence  of  liquor  and 
knew  how  to  be  a  good  fellow  without  being  a  fool. 
The  first  big  lie  of  his  life  he  was  forced  to  act  rather 
than  speak  when  Cleo  had  entered  his  life.  This  lie 
had  not  yet  shaped  itself  into  words.  And  he  doubted 
his  ability  to  carry  it  off  successfully.  To  speak  the 
truth  simply  and  plainly  had  become  an  ingrained 
habit.  He  trembled  at  the  possibility  of  being  com- 

117 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FAT  PIER 

pelled  to  deliberately  and  continuously  lie  to  his  wife. 
If  he  could  only  tell  her  the  truth — tell  her  the  hours 
of  anguish  he  had  passed  in  struggling  against  the 
Beast  that  at  last  had  won  the  fight — if  he  could  only 
make  her  feel  to-night  the  pain,  the  shame,  the  loathing, 
the  rage  that  filled  his  soul,  she  must  forgive. 

But  would  she  listen?  Had  the  child-mind  that  had 
never  faced  realities  the  power  to  adjust  itself  to  such 
a  tragedy  and  see  life  in  its  wider  relations  of  sin 
and  sorrow,  of  repentance  and  struggle  to  the  achiere- 
ment  of  character?  There  was  but  one  answer: 

"No.     It  would  kill  her.     She  can't  understand " 

And  then  despair  gripped  him,  his  eyes  grew  dim  and 
he  couldn't  think.  He  leaned  heavily  on  the  gate  in  a 
sickening  stupor  from  which  his  mind  slowly  emerged 
and  his  fancy  began  to  play  pranks  with  an  imagination 
suddenly  quickened  by  suffering  into  extraordinary 
activity. 

A  katydid  was  crying  somewhere  over  his  head  and 
a  whip-poor-will  broke  the  stillness  with  his  weird  call 
that  seemed  to  rise  from  the  ground  under  his  feet. 
He  was  a  boy  again  roaming  the  fields  where  stalwart 
slaves  were  working  his  father's  plantation.  It  was 
just  such  a  day  in  early  spring  when  he  had  persuaded 
Andy  to  run  away  with  him  and  go  swimming  in  Buf 
falo  creek.  He  had  caught  cold  and  they  both  got  a 
whipping  that  night.  He  remembered  how  Andy  had 
yelled  so  loud  his  father  had  stopped.  And  how  he  had 
set  his  little  jaws  together,  refused  to  cry  and  received 
the  worst  whipping  of  his  life.  He  could  hear  Andy 
now  as  he  slipped  up  to  him  afterward,  grinning  and 
chuckling  and  whispered : 

"Lordy,  man,  why  didn't  ye  holler?  You  don't  know 
118 


THE  JUDGMENT  BAR 


how  ter  take  er  whippin'  nohow.  He  nebber  hurt  me 
no  mo'  dan  a  flea  bitin' !" 

And  then  his  mind  leaped  the  years.  Cleo  was  in  his 
arms  that  night  at  old  Peeler's  and  he  was  stroking 
her  hair  as  he  would  have  smoothed  the  fur  of  a  fright 
ened  kitten.  That  strange  impulse  was  the  beginning 
— he  could  see  it  now — and  it  had  grown  with  daily  con 
tact,  until  the  contagious  animal  magnetism  of  her  near 
ness  became  resistless.  And  now  he  stood  a  shivering 
coward  in  the  dark,  afraid  to  enter  his  own  house  and 
look  his  wife  in  the  face. 

Yes,  he  was  a  coward.  He  acknowledged  it  with  a 
grim  smile — a  coward !  This  boastful,  high-strung,  self- 
poised  leader  of  men !  He  drew  his  tall  figure  erect  and 
a  bitter  laugh  broke  from  his  lips.  He  who  had  led 
men  to  death  on  battlefields  with  a  smile  and  a  shout! 
He  who  had  cried  in  anguish  the  day  Lee  surrendered! 
He  who,  in  defeat,  still  indomitable  and  unconquered, 
had  fired  the  souls  of  his  ruined  people  and  led  them 
through  riot  and  revolution  again  to  victory ! — He  was 
a  coward  now  and  he  knew  it,  as  he  stood  there  alone 
in  the  stillness  of  the  Southern  night  and  looked  him 
self  squarely  in  the  face. 

His  heart  gave  a  throb  of  pity  as  he  recalled  the 
scenes  during  the  war,  when  deserters  and  cowards  had 
been  led  out  in  the  gray  dawn  and  shot  to  death  for 
something  they  couldn't  help. 

It  must  be  a  dream.  He  couldn't  realize  the  truth — 
grim,  hideous  and  unthinkable.  He  had  won  every  fight 
as  the  leader  of  his  race  against  overwhelming  odds. 
He  had  subdued  the  desperate  and  lawless  among  his 
own  men  until  his  word  was  law.  He  had  rallied  the 
shattered  forces  of  a  defeated  people  and  inspired  them 

119 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

with  enthusiasm.  He  had  overturned  the  negroid  gov 
ernment  in  the  state  though  backed  by  a  million  bay 
onets  in  the  hands  of  veteran  battle-tried  soldiers.  He 
had  crushed  the  man  who  led  these  forces,  impeached 
and  removed  him  from  office,  and  hurled  him  into 
merited  oblivion,  a  man  without  a  country.  He  had 
made  himself  the  central  figure  of  the  commonwealth. 
In  the  dawn  of  manhood  he  had  lived  already  a  man's 
full  life.  A  conquered  world  at  his  feet,  and  yet  a  little 
yellow,  red-haired  girl  of  the  race  he  despised,  in  the 
supreme  hour  of  triumph  had  laid  his  life  in  ruins.  He 
had  conquered  all  save  the  Beast  within  and  he  must 
die  for  it — it  was  only  a  morbid  fancy,  yes — yet  he  felt 
the  chill  in  his  soul. 

How  long  he  had  stood  there  doubting,  fearing, 
dreaming,  he  could  form  no  idea.  He  was  suddenly 
roused  to  the  consciousness  of  his  position  by  the  doctor 
who  was  hurrying  from  the  house.  There  was  genuine 
surprise  in  his  voice  as  he  spoke  slowly  and  in  a  very 
low  tone. 

Dr.  Williams  had  the  habit  of  slow,  quiet  speech. 
He  was  a  privileged  character  in  the  town  and  the  state, 
with  the  record  of  a  half  century  of  practice.  A  man 
of  wide  reading  and  genuine  culture,  he  concealed  a  big 
heart  beneath  a  brutal  way  of  expressing  his  thoughts. 
He  said  exactly  what  he  meant  with  a  distinctness  that 
was  all  the  more  startling  because  of  his  curious  habit 
of  speaking  harsh  things  in  tones  so  softly  modulated 
that  his  hearers  frequently  asked  him  to  repeat  his  words. 

"I  had  just  started  to  the  banquet  hall  with  a  mes 
sage  for  you,"  he  said  slowly. 

«Yes — yes,"  Norton  answered  vaguely. 

"But  I  see  you've  come — Cleo  told  you?" 
120 


THE   JUDGMENT   BAR 


"Yes — she  came  to  the  hall " 

The  doctor's  slender  fingers  touched  his  fine  gray 
beard. 

"Really!  She  entered  that  hall  to-night?  Well,  it's 
a  funny  world,  this.  We  spend  our  time  and  energy 
fighting  the  negro  race  in  front  and  leave  our  back' 
doors  open  for  their  women  and  children  to  enter  and 
master  our  life.  I  congratulate  you  as  a  politician  on 
your  victory " 

Norton  lifted  his  hand  as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow: 

"Please !  not  to-night !" 

The  doctor  caught  the  look  of  agony  in  the  haggard 
face  and  suddenly  extended  his  hand: 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  your  personal  history,  my  boy. 
I  was — I  was  thinking  for  a  moment  of  the  folly  of  a 
people — forgive  me — I  know  you  need  help  to-night. 
You  must  pull  yourself  together  before  you  go  in 
there " 

"Yes,  I  know!"  Norton  faltered.  "You  have  seen 
my  wife  and  talked  with  her — you  can  see  things  clearer 
than  I — tell  me  what  to  do !" 

"There's  but  one  thing  you  can  do,"  was  the  gentle 
answer.     "Lie  to  her — lie — and  stick  to  it.     Lie  skill 
fully,  carefully,   deliberately,  and  with  such  sincerity  1 
and  conviction  she's  got  to  believe  you.     She  wants  to 
believe  you,  of  course.     I  know  you  are  guilty " 

"Let  me  tell  you,  doctor " 

"No,  you  needn't.  It's  an  old  story.  The  more 
powerful  the  man  the  easier  his  conquest  when  once 
the  female  animal  of  Cleo's  race  has  her  chance.  It's 
enough  to  make  the  devil  laugh  to  hear  your  politicians 
howl  against  social  and  political  equality  while  this  can 
cer  is  eating  the  heart  out  of  our  society.  It  makes  me 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

sick !  And  she  went  to  your  banquet  hall  to-night !  I'll 
laugh  over  it  when  I'm  blue " 

The  doctor  paused,  laughed  softly,  and  continued: 

"Now  listen,  Norton.  Your  wife  can't  live  unless 
she  wills  to  live.  I've  told  you  this  before.  The  mo 
ment  she  gives  up,  she  dies.  It's  the  iron  will  inside  her 
frail  body  that  holds  the  spirit.  If  she  knows  the  truth, 
she  can't  face  it.  She  is  narrow,  conventional,  and  can't 
readjust  herself " 

"But  doctor,  can't  she  be  made  to  realize  that  this 
thing  is  here  a  living  fact  which  the  white  woman  of 
the  South  must  face?  These  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
a  mixed  race  are  not  accidents.  She  must  know  that 
this  racial  degradation  is  not  merely  a  thing  of  to-day, 
but  the  heritage  of  two  hundred  years  of  sin  and  sor 
row!" 

"The  older  women  know  this — yes — but  not  our 
younger  generation,  who  have  been  reared  in  the  fierce 
defense  of  slavery  we  were  forced  to  make  before  the 
war.  These  things  were  not  to  be  talked  about.  No 
girl  reared  as  your  wife  can  conceive  of  the  possibility 
of  a  decent  man  falling  so  low.  I  warn  you.  You 
can't  let  her  know  the  truth — and  so  the  only  thing 
you  can  do  is  to  lie  and  stick  to  it.  It's  queer  advice 
for  a  doctor  to  give  an  honorable  man,  perhaps.  But 
life  is  full  of  paradoxes.  My  advice  is  medicine.  Our 
best  medicines  are  the  most  deadly  poisons  in  nature. 
I've  saved  many  a  man's  life  by  their  use.  This  hap 
pens  to  be  one  of  the  cases  where  I  prescribe  a  poison. 
Put  the  responsibility  on  me  if  you  like.  My  shoulders 
are  broad.  I  live  close  to  Nature  and  the  prattle  of 
fools  never  disturbs  me." 

"Is  she  still  hysterical?"  Norton  asked. 


THE   JUDGMENT   BAR 


"No.  That's  the  strange  part  of  it— the  thing  that 
frightens  me.  That's  why  I  haven't  left  her  side  since 
I  was  called.  Her  outburst  wasn't  hysteria  in  the  first 
place.  It  was  rage — the  blind  unreasoning  fury  of  the 
woman  who  sees  her  possible  rival  and  wishes  to  kill  her. 
You'll  find  her  very  quiet.  There's  a  queer,  still  look  in 
her  eyes  I  don't  like.  It's  the  calm  before  the  storm — 
a  storm  that  may  leave  death  in  its  trail " 

"Couldn't  I  deny  it  at  first,"  Norton  interrupted, 
"and  then  make  my  plea  to  her  in  an  appeal  for  mercy 
on  an  imaginary  case?  God  only  knows  what  I've  gone 
through — the  fight  I  made " 

"Yes,  I  know,  my  boy,  with  that  young  animal  play 
ing  at  your  feet  in  physical  touch  with  your  soul  and 
body  in  the  intimacies  of  your  home,  you  never  had  a 
chance.  But  you  can't  make  your  wife  see  this.  An 
angel  from  heaven,  with  tongue  of  divine  eloquence, 
can  make  no  impression  on  her  if  she  once  believes  you 
guilty.  Don't  tell  her — and  may  God  have  mercy  on 
your  soul  to-night !" 

With  a  pressure  on  the  younger  man's  arm,  the 
straight  white  figure  of  the  old  doctor  passed  through 
the  gate. 

Norton  walked  quickly  to  the  steps  of  the  spacious, 
pillared  porch,  stopped  and  turned  again  into  the  lawn. 
He  sat  down  on  a  rustic  seat  and  tried  desperately  to 
work  out  what  he  would  say,  and  always  the  gray  mist 
of  a  fog  of  despair  closed  in. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was  confronted 
squarely  with  the  fact  that  the  whole  structure  of  so 
ciety  is  enfolded  in  a  network  of  interminable  lies.  His 
wife  had  been  reared  from  the  cradle  in  the  atmosphere 
of  beauty  and  innocence.  She  believed  in  the  innocence 

123 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

of  her  father,  her  brothers,  and  every  man  who  moved 
in  her  circle.  Above  all,  she  believed  in  the  innocence 
of  her  husband.  The  fact  that  the  negro  race  had  for 
two  hundred  years  been  stirring  the  baser  passions  of 
^her  men — that  this  degradation  of  the  higher  race  had 
;'been  bred  into  the  bone  and  sinew  of  succeeding  gen 
erations — had  never  occurred  to  her  child-like  mind. 
How  hopeless  the  task  to  tell  her  now  when  the  tragic 
story  must  shatter  her  own  ideals ! 

The  very  thought  brought  a  cry  of  agony  to  his 
lips: 

"God  in  heaven — what  can  I  do?" 

He  looked  helplessly  at  the  stream  of  light  from  her 
window  and  turned  again  toward  the  cool,  friendly 
darkness. 

The  night  was  one  of  marvellous  stillness.  The  band 
was  playing  again  in  his  banquet  hall  at  the  Capitol. 
So  still  was  the  night  he  could  hear  distinctly  the  softer 
strains  of  the  stringed  instruments,  faint,  sweet  and 
thrilling,  as  they  floated  over  the  sleepy  old  town.  A 
mocking-bird  above  him  wakened  by  the  call  of  melody 
answered,  tenderly  at  first,  and  then,  with  the  crash  of 
cornet  and  drum,  his  voice  swelled  into  a  flood  of  won 
derful  song. 

With  a  groan  of  pain,  Norton  rose  and  walked  rap 
idly  into  the  house.  His*  bird-dog  lay  on  the  mat  out 
side  the  door  and  sprang  forward  with  a  joyous  whine 
to  meet  him. 

He  stooped  and  drew  the  shaggy  setter's  head  against 
his  hot  cheek. 

"I  need  a  friend,  to-night,  Don,  old  boy!"  he  said 
tenderly.  And  Don  answered  with  an  eloquent  wag  of 
his  tail  and  a  gentle  nudge  of  his  nose. 


THE   JUDGMENT   EAR 


"If  you  were  only  my  judge! — Bah,  what's  the 
use " 

He  drew  his  drooping  shoulders  erect  and  entered  his 
wife's  room.  Her  eyes  were  shining  with  peculiar 
brightness,  but  otherwise  she  seemed  unusually  calm. 
She  began  speaking  with  quick  nervous  energy : 

"Dr.  Williams  told  you?" 

"Yes,  and  I  came  at  once."  He  answered  with  an 
unusually  firm  and  clear  note  of  strength.  His  whole 
being  was  keyed  now  to  a  high  tension  of  alert  decision. 
He  saw  that  the  doctor's  way  was  the  only  one. 

"I  don't  ask  you,  Dan,"  she  went  on  with  increasing 
excitement  and  a  touch  of  scorn  in  her  voice — "I  don't 
ask  you  to  deny  this  lie.  What  I  want  to  know  is  the 
motive  the  little  devil  had  in  saying  such  a  thing  to  me. 
Mammy,  in  her  jealousy,  merely  told  me  she  was  hang 
ing  around  your  room  too  often.  I  asked  her  if  it  were 
true.  She  looked  at  me  a  moment  and  burst  into  her 
lying  'confession.'  I  could  have  killed  her.  I  did  try 
to  tear  her  green  eyes  out.  I  knew  that  you  hated  her 
and  tried  to  put  her  out  of  the  house,  and  I  thought  she 
had  taken  this  way  to  get  even  with  you — but  it  doesn't 
seem  possible.  And  then  I  thought  the  Governor  might 
have  taken  this  way  to  strike  you.  He  knows  old  Peeler, 
the  low  miserable  scoundrel,  who  is  her  father.  Do  you 
think  it  possible?" 

"I — don't — know,"  he  stammered,  moistening  his  lips 
and  turning  away. 

"Yet  it's  possible" — she  insisted. 

He  saw  the  chance  to  confirm  this  impression  by  a 
cheap  lie — to  invent  a  story  of  old  Peeler's  intimacy 
with  the  Governor,  of  his  attempt  to  marry  Lucy,  of 
his  hatred  of  the  policy  of  the  paper,  his  fear  of  the 

125 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

Klan  and  of  his  treacherous,  cowardly  nature — yet  the 
lie  seemed  so  cheap  and  contemptible  his  lips  refused 
to  move.  If  he  were  going  to  carry  out  the  doctor's 
orders  here  was  his  chance.  He  struggled  to  speak  and 
couldn't.  The  habit  of  a  life  and  the  fibre  of  charac 
ter  were  too  strong.  So  he  did  the  fatal  thing  at  the 
moment  of  crisis. 

"I  don't  think  that  possible,"  he  said. 

"Why  not?" 

"Well,  you  see,  since  I  rescued  old  Peeler  that  night 
from  those  boys,  he  has  been  so  abjectly  grateful  I've 
had  to  put  him  out  of  my  office  once  or  twice,  and  I'm 
sure  he  voted  for  me  for  the  Legislature  against  his 
own  party." 

"He  voted  for  you?"  she  asked  in  surprise. 

"He  told  me  so.  He  may  have  lied,  of  course,  but 
I  don't  think  he  did." 

"Then  what  could  have  been  her  motive?" 

His  teeth  were  chattering  in  spite  of  a  desper 
ate  effort  to  think  clearly  and  speak  intelligently. 
He  stared  at  a  picture  on  the  wall  and  made  no 
reply. 

"Say  something — answer  my  question!"  his  wife 
cried  excitedly. 

"I  have  answered,  my  dear.  I  said  I  don't  know.  I'm 
stunned  by  the  whole  thing.'* 

"You  are  stunned?'9 

"Yes " 

"Stunned?  You,  a  strong,  innocent  man,  stunned  by 
a  weak  contemptible  lie  like  this  from  the  lips  of  such 
a  girl — what  do  you  mean?" 

"Why,  that  I  was  naturally  shocked  to  be  called  out 
of  a  banquet  at  such  a  moment  by  such  an  accusation. 

126 


THE   JUDGMENT  BAR 


She  actually  beckoned  to  me  from  the  door  over  the 
heads  of  the  guests " 

The  little  blue  eyes  suddenly  narrowed  and  the  thin 
lips  grew  hard: 

"Cleo  called  you  from  the  door?"  she  asked. 

"Yes." 

"You  left  the  hall  to  see  her  there?" 

"No,  I  went  down  stairs." 

"Into  the  Capitol  Square?" 

"Yes.  I  couldn't  well  talk  to  her  before  all  those 
guests " 

"Why  not?" 

The  question  came  like  the  crack  of  a  pistol.  Her 
voice  was  high,  cold,  metallic,  ringing.  He  saw,  when 
too  late,  that  he  had  made  a  fatal  mistake.  He  stam 
mered,  reddened  and  then  turned  pale: 

"Why— why— naturally " 

"If  you  are  innocent — why  not  ?" 

He  made  a  desperate  effort  to  find  a  place  of  safety : 

"I  thought  it  wise  to  go  down  stairs  where  I  could 
talk  without  interruption " 

"You — were — afraid,"  she  was  speaking  each  word 
now  with  cold,  deadly  deliberation,  "to  take-a-message- 
from-your-servant-at-the-door-of-a-public  banquet-hall 

"  her  words  quickened — "then  you  suspected  her 

possible  message !  There  was  something  between 
you " 

"My  deai,  I  beg  of  you " 

He  turned  his  head  away  with  a  weary  gesture. 

She  sprang  from  the  side  of  the  bed,  leaped  to  his 
side,  seized  him  by  both  arms  and  fairly  screamed  in 
his  face: 

"Look  at  me,  Dan !" 

127 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

He  turned  quickly,  his  haggard  eyes  stared  into  hers, 
and  she  looked  with  slowly  dawning  horror. 

"Oh,  my  God !"  she  shrieked.  "It's  true— it's  true- 
it's  true!" 

She  sprang  back  with  a  shiver  of  loathing,  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands  and  staggered  to  her  bed,  sob 
bing  hysterically: 

"It's  true — it's  true — it's  true!  Have  mercy,  Lord! 
— it's  true — it's  true!"  She  fell  face  downward,  her 
frail  figure  quivering  like  a  leaf  in  a  storm. 

He  rushed  to  her  side,  crying  in  terror : 

"It's  not  true — it's  not  true,  my  dear!  Don't  be 
lieve  it.  I  swear  it's  a  lie — it's  a  lie — I  tell  you !" 

She  was  crying  in  sobs  of  utter  anguish. 

He  bent  low : 

"It's  not  true,  dearest!  It's  not  true,  I  tell  you. 
You  mustn't  believe  it.  You  can't  believe  it  when  I 
swear  to  you  that  it's  a  lie " 

His  head  gently  touched  her  slender  shoulder. 

She  flinched  as  if  scorched  by  a  flame,  sprang  to  her 
feet,  and  faced  him  with  blazing  eyes : 

"Don't — you — dare — touch — me " 

"My  dear,"  he  pleaded. 

"Don't  speak  to  me  again!" 

"Please " 

"Get  out  of  this  room !" 

He  stood  rooted  to  the  spot  in  helpless  stupor  and 
she  threw  her  little  body  against  his  with  sudden  fury, 
pushing  him  toward  the  door.  "Get  out,  I  say !" 

He  staggered  back  helplessly  and  awkwardly  amazed 
at  her  strength  as  she  pushed  him  into  the  hall.  She 
stood  a  moment  towering  in  the  white  frame  of  the  door, 
the  picture  of  an  avenging  angel  to  his  tormented  soul. 

128 


THE   JUDGMENT   BAR 


Through  teeth  chattering  with  hysterical  emotion  she 
cried : 

"Go,  you  leper!  And  don't  you  ever  dare  to  cross 
this  door-sill  again — not  even  to  look  on  my  dead 
face!" 

"For  God's  sake,  don't!'  he  gasped,  staggering 
toward  her. 

But  the  door  slammed  in  his  face  and  the  bolt  sud 
denly  shot  into  its  place. 

He  knocked  gently  and  received  no  answer.  An  om 
inous  stillness  reigned  within.  He  called  again  and 
again  without  response.  He  waited  patiently  for  half 
an  hour  and  knocked  once  more.  An  agony  of  fear 
chilled  him.  She  might  be  dead.  He  knelt,  pressed  his 
ear  close  to  the  keyhole  and  heard  a  long,  low,  pitiful 
sob  from  her  bed. 

"Thank  God " 

He  rose  with  sudden  determination.  She  couldn't  be 
left  like  that.  He  would  call  the  doctor  back  at  once, 
and,  what  was  better  still,  he  would  bring  her  mother, 
a  wise  gray-haired  little  saint,  who  rarely  volunteered 
advice  in  her  daughter's  affairs.  The  door  would  fly 
open  at  her  soft  command. 


129 


CHAPTER  XIII 

AN    OLD    STORY 

THE  doctor's  house  lay  beyond  the  Capitol  and  in 
his  haste  Norton  forgot  that  a  banquet  was  being  held 
in  his  honor.  He  found  himself  suddenly  face  to  face 
with  the  first  of  the  departing  guests  as  they  began  to 
pour  through  the  gates  of  the  Square. 

He  couldn't  face  these  people,  turned  in  his  tracks, 
walked  back  to  the  next  block  and  hurried  into  an  ob 
scure  side  street  by  which  he  could  avoid  them. 

The  doctor  had  not  retired.  He  was  seated  on  his 
porch  quietly  smoking,  as  if  he  were  expecting  the  call. 

"Well,  you've  bungled  it,  I  see,"  he  said  simply,  as  he 
rose  and  seized  his  hat. 

"Yes,  she  guessed  the  truth " 

"Guessed? — hardly."  The  white  head  with  its  shin 
ing  hair  slowly  wagged.  "She  read  it  in  those  haggard 
eyes.  Funny  what  poor  liars  your  people  have  always 
been !  If  your  father  hadn't  been  fool  enough  to  tell 
the  truth  with  such  habitual  persistence,  that  office  of 
his  would  never  have  been  burned  during  the  war.  It's 
a  funny  world.  It's  the  fun  of  it  that  keeps  us  alive, 
after  all." 

"Do  the  best  you  can  for  me,  doctor,"  he  interrupted. 
"I'm  going  for  her  mother." 

"All  right,"  was  the  cheery  answer,  "bring  her  at 
once.  She's  a  better  doctor  than  I  to-night." 

130 


AN  OLD   STORY 


Norton  walked  swiftly  toward  a  vine-clad  cottage 
that  stood  beside  Governor  Carteret's  place.  It  sat 
far  back  on  the  lawn  that  was  once  a  part  of  the  orig 
inal  estate  twenty  odd  years  ago.  The  old  Governor 
during  his  last  administration  had  built  it  for  Robert 
Carteret,  a  handsome,  wayward  son,  whom  pretty  Jen 
nie  Pryor  had  married.  It  had  been  a  runaway  love 
match.  The  old  man  had  not  opposed  it  because  of 
any  objection  to  the  charming  girl  the  boy  had  fallen 
in  love  with.  He  knew  that  Robert  was  a  wild,  head 
strong,  young  scapegrace  unfit  to  be  the  husband  of 
any  woman. 

But  apparently  marriage  settled  him.  For  two  years 
after  Jean's  birth  he  lived  a  decent  life  and  then  slipped 
again  into  hopelessly  dissolute  habits.  When  Jean  was 
seven  years  old  he  was  found  dead  one  night  under  pe 
culiar  circumstances  that  were  never  made  public.  The 
sweet  little  woman  who  had  braved  the  world's  wrath  to 
marry  him  had  never  complained,  and  she  alone  (with 
one  other)  knew  the  true  secret  of  his  death. 

She  had  always  been  supported  by  a  generous  al 
lowance  from  the  old  Governor  and  in  his  last  will 
the  vigorous  octogenarian  had  taade  her  his  sole 
heir. 

Norton  had  loved  this  quiet,  patient  little  mother 
with  a  great  tenderness  since  the  day  of  his  marriage 
to  her  daughter.  He  had  never  found  her  wanting  in 
sympathy  or  helpfulness.  She  rarely  left  her  cottage, 
but  many  a  time  he  had  gone  to  her  with  his  troubles 
and  came  away  with  a  light  heart  and  a  clearer  insight 
into  the  duty  that  called.  Her  love  and  faith  in  him 
was  one  of  the  big  things  in  life.  In  every  dream  of 
achievement  that  had  fired  his  imagination  during  the 

131 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

stirring  days  of  the  past  months  he  had  always  seen 
her  face  smiling  with  pride  and  love. 

It  was  a  bitter  task  to  confess  his  shame  to  her — this 
.tender,  gracious,  uncomplaining  saint,  to  whom  he  had 
*  always  been  a  hero.    He  paused  a  moment  with  his  hand 
on  the  bell  of  the  cottage,  and  finally  rang. 

Standing  before  her  with  bowed  head  he  told  in  a 
few  stammering  words  the  story  of  his  sin  and  the  sor 
row  that  had  overwhelmed  him. 

"I  swear  to  you  that  for  the  past  two  months  my  life 
has  been  clean  and  God  alone  knows  the  anguish  of  re 
morse  I  have  suffered.  You'll  help  me,  mother?"  he 
asked  pathetically. 

"Yes,  my  son,"  she  answered  simply. 

"You  don't  hate  me?" — the  question  ended  with  a 
catch  in  his  voice  that  made  it  almost  inaudible. 

She  lifted  her  white  hands  to  his  cheeks,  drew  the 
tall  form  down  gently  and  pressed  his  lips : 

"No,  my  son,  I've  lived  too  long.  I  leave  judgment 
now  to  God.  The  unshed  tears  I  see  in  your  eyes  are 
enough  for  me." 

,      "I  must  see  her  to-night,  mother.    Make  her  see  me. 
I  can't  endure  this." 

"She  will  see  you  when  I  have  talked  with  her,"  was 
the  slow  reply  as  if  to  herself.  "I  am  going  to  tell  her 
something  that  I  hoped  to  carry  to  the  grave.  But  the 
time  has  come  and  she  must  know." 

The  doctor  was  strolling  on  the  lawn  when  they  ar 
rived. 

"She  didn't  wish  to  see  me,  my  boy,"  he  said  with  a 
look  of  sympathy.  "And  I  thought  it  best  to  humor 
her.  Send  for  me  again  if  you  wish,  but  I  think  the 
mother  is  best  to-night."  Without  further  words  he 


AN   OLD   STORY 


tipped  his  hat  with  a  fine  old-fashioned  bow  to  Mrs. 
Carteret  and  hurried  home. 

At  the  sound  of  the  mother's  voice  the  door  was 
opened,  two  frail  arms  slipped  around  her  neck  and  a 
baby  was  sobbing  again  on  her  breast.  The  white 
slender  hands  tenderly  stroked  the  blonde  hair,  lips 
bent  low  and  kissed  the  shining  head  and  a  cheek  rested 
there  while  sob  after  sob  shook  the  little  body.  The 
wise  mother  spoke  no  words  save  the  sign  language  of 
love  and  tenderness,  the  slow  pressure  to  her  heart  of 
the  sobbing  figure,  kisses,  kisses,  kisses  on  her  hair  and 
the  soothing  touch  of  her  hand. 

A  long  time  without  a  word  they  thus  clung  to  each 
other.  The  sobs  ceased  at  last. 

"Now  tell  me,  darling,  how  can  I  help  you?"  the  gen 
tle  voice  said. 

"Oh,  mamma,  I  just  want  to  go  home  to  you  again, 
and  die — that's  all." 

"You'd  be  happier,  you  think,  with  me,  dear?" 

"Yes — it's  clean  and  pure  there.  I  can't  live  in  this 
house— the  very  air  I  breathe  is  foul !" 

"But  you  can't  leave  Dan,  my  child.  Your  life  and 
his  are  one  in  your  babe.  God  has  made  this  so." 

"He  is  nothing  to  me  now.  He  doesn't  exist.  I  don't 
come  of  his  breed  of  men.  My  father's  handsome  face 
— my  grandfather's  record  as  the  greatest  Governor  of 
the  state — are  not  merely  memories  to  me.  I'll  return 
to  my  own.  And  I'll  take  my  child  with  me.  I'll  go 
back  where  the  air  is  clean,  where  men  have  always  been 
men,  not  beasts " 

The  mother  rose  quietly  and  took  from  the  mantel 
the  dainty  morocco-covered  copy  of  the  Bible  she  had 
given  her  daughter  the  day  she  left  home.  She 

133 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

turned  its  first,  pages,  put  her  finger  on  the  sixteenth 
chapter  of  the  Book  of  Genesis,  and  turned  down  a 
leaf: 

"I  want  you  to  read  this  chapter  of  Genesis  which 
I  have  marked  when  you  are  yourself,  and  remember 
,that  the  sympathy  of  the  world  has  always  been  with 
the  outcast  Hagar,  and  not  with  the  foolish  wife  who 
brought  a  beautiful  girl  into  her  husband's  house  and 
then  repented  of  her  folly." 

"But  a  negress !  oh,  my  God,  the  horror,  the  shame, 
the  humiliation  he  has  put  on  me!  I've  asked  myself 
a  hundred  times  why  I  lived  a  moment,  why  I  didn't  leap 
from  that  window  and  dash  my  brain  out  on  the  ground 
below — the  beast — the  beast!" 

"Yes,  dear,  but  when  you  are  older  you  will  know 
that  all  men  are  beasts." 

"Mother!" 

"Yes,  all  men  who  are  worth  while " 

"How  can  you  say  that,"  the  daughter  cried  with 
scorn,  "and  remember  my  father  and  grandfather?  No 
man  passes  the  old  Governor  to-day  without  lifting  his 
hat,  and  I've  seen  you  sit  for  hours  with  my  father's 
picture  in  your  lap  crying  over  it " 

"Yes,  dear,"  was  the  sweet  answer,  "these  hearts  of 
ours  play  strange  pranks  with  us  sometimes.  You  must 
see  Dan  to-night  and  forgive.  He  will  crawl  on  his 
hands  and  knees  to  your  feet  and  beg  it." 

"I'll  never  see  him  or  speak  to  him  again !" 

"You  must — dear." 

"Never!" 

The  mother  sat  down  on  the  lounge  and  drew  the 
quivering  figure  close.  Her  face  was  hidden  from  the 
daughter's  view  when  she  began  to  speak  and  so  the 


AN  OLD   STORY 


death-like  pallor  was  not  noticed.  The  voice  was  held 
even  by  a  firm  will: 

"I  hoped  God  might  let  me  go  without  my  having  to 
tell  you  what  I  must  say  now,  dearest" — in  spite  of  her 
effort  there  was  a  break  and  silence. 

The  little  hand  sought  the  mother's : 

"You  know  you  can  tell  me  anything,  mamma, 
dear." 

"Your  father,  my  child,  was  not  a  great  man.  He 
died  in  what  should  have  been  the  glory  of  young  man 
hood.  He  achieved  nothing.  He  was  just  the  spoiled 
child  of  a  greater  man,  a  child  who  inherited  his  father's 
brilliant  mind,  fiery  temper  and  willful  passions.  I  loved 
him  from  the  moment  we  met  and  in  spite  of  all 
I  know  that  he  loved  me  with  the  strongest,  purest  love 
he  was  capable  of  giving  to  any  woman.  And  yet, 
dearest,  I  dare  not  tell  you  all  I  discovered  of  his  wild, 
reckless  life.  The  vilest  trait  of  his  character  was 
transmitted  straight  from  sire  to  son — he  would  never 
ask  forgiveness  of  any  human  being  for  anything  he  had 
done — that  is  your  grandfather's  boast  to-day.  The 
old  Governor,  my  child,  was  the  owner  of  more  than 
a  thousand  slaves  on  his  two  great  plantations.  Many 
of  them  he  didn't  know  personally — unless  they  were 
beautiful  girls " 

"Oh,  mother,  darling,  have  mercy  on  me !" — the  little 
fingers  tightened  their  grip.  But  the  mother's  even 
voice  went  on  remorselessly: 

"Cleo's  mother  was  one  of  his  slaves.  You  may  de 
pend  upon  it,  your  grandfather  knows  her  history.  You 
must  remember  what  slavery  meant,  dear.  It  put  into 
the  hands  of  a  master  an  awful  power.  It  was  not 
necessaiy  for  strong  men  to  use  this  power.  The 

135 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

humble  daughters  of  slaves  vied  with  one  another  to 
win  his  favor.  Your  grandfather  was  a  man  of  great 
intellect,  of  powerful  physique,  of  fierce,  ungovernable 
passions " 

"But  my  father" — gasped  the  girl  wife. 

"Was  a  handsome,  spoiled  child,  the  kind  of  man 
for  whom  women  have  always  died — but  he  never  pos 
sessed  the  strength  to  keep  himself  within  the  bounds 
of  decency  as  did  the  older  man " 

"What  do  you  mean?"  the  daughter  broke  in  des 
perately. 

"There  has  always  been  a  secret  about  your  father's 
death" — the  mother  paused  and  drew  a  deep  breath. 
"I  made  the  secret.  I  told  the  story  to  save  him  from 
shame  in  death.  He  died  in  the  cabin  of  a  mulatto  girl 
he  had  played  with  as  a  boy — and — the  thing  that's 
hardest  for  me  to  tell  you,  dearest,  is  that  I  knew 
exactly  where  to  find  him  when  he  had  not  returned  at 
two  o'clock  that  morning " 

The  white  head  sank  lower  and  rested  on  the  shoulder 
of  the  frail  young  wife,  who  slipped  her  arms  about  the 
form  of  her  mother,  and  neither  spoke  for  a  long 
while. 

At  last  the  mother  began  in  quiet  tones : 

"And  this  was  one  of  the  reasons,  my  child,  why 
slavery  was  doomed.  The  war  was  a  wicked  and  awful 
tragedy.  The  white  motherhood  of  the  South  would 
have  crushed  slavery.  Before  the  war  began  we  had  six 
hundred  thousand  mulattoes — six  hundred  thousand 
reasons  why  slavery  had  to  die!" 

The  fire  flashed  in  the  gentle  eyes  for  a  moment  while 
she  paused,  and  drew  her  soul  back  from  the  sorrowful 
past  to  the  tragedy  of  to-day : 

136 


AN  OLD   STORY 


"And  so,  my  darling,  you  must  see  your  husband  and 
forgive.  He  isn't  bad.  He  carried  in  his  blood  the  in 
heritance  of  hundreds  of  years  of  lawless  passion.  The 
noble  thing  about  Dan  is  that  he  has  the  strength  of 
character  to  rise  from  this  to  a  higher  manhood.  You 
must  help  him,  dearest,  to  do  this." 

The  daughter  bent  and  kissed  the  gentle  lips : 

"Ask  him  to  come  here,  mother " 

She  found  the  restless  husband  pacing  the  floor  of  the 
pillared  porch.  It  was  past  two  o'clock  and  the  waning 
moon  had  risen.  His  face  was  ghastly  as  his  feet 
stopped  their  dreary  beat  at  the  rustle  of  her  dress. 
His  heart  stood  still  for  a  moment  until  he  saw  the 
smiling  face. 

"It's  all  right,  Dan,"  she  called  softly  in  the  door 
way.  "She's  waiting  for  you." 

He  sprang  to  the  door,  stooped  and  kissed  the  silken 
gray  hair  and  hurried  up  the  stairs. 

Tears  were  slowly  stealing  from  the  blue  eyes  as  the 
little  wife  extended  her  frail  arms.  The  man  knelt  and 
bowed  his  head  in  her  lap,  unable  to  speak  at  first. 
With  an  effort  he  mastered  his  voice: 

"Say  that  you  forgive  me .!" 

The  blonde  head  sank  until  it  touched  the  brown : 

"I  forgive  you — but,  oh,  Dan,  dear,  I  don't  want  to 
live  any  more  now " 

"Don't  say  that!"  he  pleaded  desperately. 

"And  I've  wanted  to  live  so  madly,  so  desperately — 
but  now — I'm  afraid  I  can't." 

"You  can — you  must!  You  have  forgiven  me.  I'll 
prove  my  love  to  you  by  a  life  of  such  devotion  I'll  make 
you  forget !  All  I  ask  is  the  chance  to  atone  and  make 
you  happy.  You  must  live  because  I  ask  it,  dear !  It's 

187 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

the  only  way  you  can  give  me  a  chance.  And  the  boy — » 
dearest — you  must  live  to  teach  him." 

She  nodded  her  head  and  choked  back  a  sob. 

When  the  first  faint  light  of  the  dawn  of  a  glorious 
spring  morning  began  to  tinge  the  eastern  sky  he  was 
still  holding  her  hands  and  begging  her  to  live. 


138 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  FIGHT   FOR   LIFE 

THE  little  wife  made  a  brave  fight.  For  a  week  there 
was  no  sign  of  a  breakdown  save  an  unnatural  bright 
ness  of  the  eyes  that  told  the  story  of  struggle  within. 
He  gave  himself  to  the  effort  to  help  her  win.  He  spent 
but  an  hour  at  the  Capitol,  left  a  Speaker  pro  tern  in 
the  chair,  hurried  to  his  office,  gave  his  orders  and  by 
eleven  o'clock  he  was  at  home,  talking,  laughing,  and 
planning  a  day's  work  that  would  interest  her  and  bring 
back  the  flush  to  her  pale  cheeks. 

She  had  responded  to  his  increasing  tenderness  and 
devotion  with  pathetic  eagerness.  At  the  beginning  of 
the  second  week  Doctor  Williams  gave  him  hope : 

"It  looks  to  me,  my  boy,"  he  said  thoughtfully, 
"that  I'm  seeing  a  miracle.  I  think  she's  not  only  go 
ing  to  survive  the  shock,  but,  what's  more  remarkable, 
she's  going  to  recover  her  health  again.  The  mind's 
the  source  of  health  and  power.  We  give  medicines,  of 
course,  but  the  thought  that  heals  the  soul  will  reach 
the  body.  Bah! — the  body  is  the  soul  anyhow,  for  all 
our  fine-spun  theories,  and  the  mind  is  only  one  of  the 
ways  through  which  we  reach  it " 

"You  really  think  she  may  be  well  again?"  Norton 
asked  with  boyish  eagerness. 

"Yes,  if  you  can  reconcile  her  mind  to  this  thing, 
she'll  not  only  live,  she  will  be  born  again  into  a  more 

139 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

vigorous  life.  Why  not?  The  preachers  have  often 
called  me  a  godless  rationalist.  But  I  go  them  one 
better  when  they  preach  the  miracle  of  a  second,  or 
spiritual  birth.  I  believe  in  the  possibility  of  many 
births  for  the  human  soul  and  the  readjustment  of 
these  bodies  of  ours  to  the  new  spirits  thus  born.  If 
you  can  tide  her  over  the  next  three  weeks  without  a 
breakdown,  she  will  get  well." 

The  husband's  eyes  flashed: 

"If  it  depends  on  her  mental  attitude,  I'll  make  her 
live  and  grow  strong.  I'll  give  her  my  body  and  soul." 

"There  are  just  two  dangers " 

"What?" 

"The  first  mental — a  sudden  collapse  of  the  will  with 
which  she's  making  this  fight  under  a  reaction  to  the 
memories  of  our  system  of  educated  ignorance,  which 
we  call  girlish  innocence.  This  may  come  at  a  moment 
when  the  consciousness  of  these  'ideals'  may  overwhelm 
her  imagination  and  cause  a  collapse " 

"Yes,  I  understand,"  he  replied  thoughtfully.  "I'll 
guard  that." 

"The  other  is  the  big  physical  enigma " 

"You  mean?" 

"The  possible  reopening  of  that  curious  abscess  in 
her  throat." 

"But  the  specialist  assured  us  it  would  never  reap 
pear " 

"Yes,  and  he  knows  just  as  much  about  it  as  you  or 
I.  It  is  one  of  the  few  cases  of  its  kind  so  far  re 
corded  in  the  science  of  medicine.  When  the  baby  was 
born,  the  drawing  of  the  mother's  neck  in  pain  pressed 
a  bone  of  the  spinal  column  into  the  flesh  beside  the 
jugular  vein.  Your  specialist  never  dared  to  operate 

140 


THE   FIGHT   FOR   LIFE 

for  a  thorough  removal  of  the  trouble  for  fear  he  would 
sever  the  vein " 

"And  if  the  old  wound  reopens  it  will  reach  the  jugu 
lar  vein?" 

"Yes." 

"Well — it — won't  happen !"  he  answered  fiercely.  "It 
can't  happen  now " 

"I  don't  think  it  will  myself,  if  you  can  keep  at  its 
highest  tension  the  desire  to  live.  That's  the  magic 
thing  that  works  the  miracle  of  life  in  such  cases.  It 
makes  food  digest,  sends  red  blood  to  the  tips  of  the 
slenderest  finger  and  builds  up  the  weak  places.  Don't 
forget  this,  my  boy.  Make  her  love  life,  desperately 
and  passionately,  until  the  will  to  live  dominates  both 
soul  and  body." 

"I'll  do  it,"  was  the  firm  answer,  as  he  grasped  the 
doctor's  outstretched  hand  in  parting. 

He  withdrew  completely  from  his  political  work.  A 
Speaker  pro  tern  presided  daily  over  the  deliberations  of 
the  House,  and  an  assistant  editor  took  charge  of  the 
paper. 

The  wife  gently  urged  him  to  give  part  of  his  time  to 
his  work  again. 

"No,"  he  responded  firmly  and  gayly.  "The  doctor 
says  you  have  a  chance  to  get  well.  I'd  rather  see  the 
roses  in  your  cheeks  again  than  be  the  President  of  the 
United  States." 

She  drew  his  head  down  and  clung  to  him  with  des 
perate  tenderness. 


141 


CHAPTER  XV 

CLEG'S  SILENCE 

FOR  two  weeks  the  wife  held  her  own  and  the  doctor 
grew  more  confident  each  day.  When  Norton  began 
to  feel  sure  the  big  danger  was  past  his  mind  became 
alert  once  more  to  the  existence  of  Cleo.  He  began  to 
wonder  why  she  had  not  made  an  effort  to  see  or  com 
municate  with  him. 

She  had  apparently  vanished  from  the  face  of  the 
earth.  In  spite  of  his  effort  to  minimize  the  importance 
of  this  fact,  her  silence  gradually  grew  in  sinister  sig 
nificance.  What  did  it  mean?  What  was  her  active 
brain  and  vital  personality  up  to?  That  it  boded  no 
good  to  his  life  and  the  life  of  those  he  loved  he  couldn't 
doubt  for  a  moment.  He  sent  a  reporter  on  a  secret 
mission  to  Peeler's  house  to  find  if  she  were  there. 

He  returned  in  three  hours  and  made  his  report. 

"She's  at  Peeler's,  sir,"  the  young  man  said  with  a 
smile. 

"You  allowed  no  one  to  learn  the  real  reason  of  your 
visit,  as  I  told  you?" 

"They  never  dreamed  it.  I  interviewed  old  Peeler  on 
the  revolution  in  politics  and  its  effects  on  the  poor 
whites  of  the  state " 

"You  saw  her?" 

"She  seemed  to  be  all  over  the  place  at  the  same  time, 
singing,  laughing  and  perfectly  happy." 


CLEO'S   SILENCE 


"Run  your  interview  to-morrow,  and  keep  this  visit  a 
profound  secret  between  us." 

"Yes,  sir." 

The  reporter  tipped  his  hat  and  was  gone.  Why  she 
was  apparently  happy  and  contented  in  surroundings 
she  had  grown  to  loathe  was  another  puzzle.  Through 
every  hour  of  the  day,  down  in  the  subconscious  part  of 
his  mind,  he  was  at  work  on  this  surprising  fact.  The 
longer  he  thought  of  it  the  less  he  understood  it.  That 
she  would  ever  content  herself  with  the  dreary  existence 
of  old  Peeler's  farm  after  her  experiences  in  the  town 
and  in  his  home  was  preposterous. 

That  she  was  smiling  and  happy  under  such  condi 
tions  was  uncanny,  and  the  picture  of  her  shining  teeth 
and  the  sound  of  her  deep  voice  singing  as  she  walked 
through  the  cheap,  sordid  surroundings  of  that  drab 
farmhouse  haunted  his  mind  with  strange  fear. 

She  was  getting  ready  to  strike  him  in  the  dark.  Just 
how  the  blow  would  fall  he  couldn't  guess. 

The  most  obvious  thing  for  her  to  do  would  be  to 
carry  her  story  to  his  political  enemies  and  end  his 
career  at  a  stroke.  Yet  somehow,  for  the  life  of  him 
he  couldn't  picture  her  choosing  that  method  of  re 
venge.  She  had  not  left  him  in  a  temper.  The  rage 
and  curses  had  all  been  his.  She  had  never  for  a  mo 
ment  lost  her  self-control.  The  last  picture  that  burned 
into  his  soul  was  the  curious  smile  with  which  she  had 
spoken  her  parting  words : 

"But  I'll  see  you  again!" 

Beyond  a  doubt  some  clean-cut  plan  of  action  was 
in  her  mind  when  she  uttered  that  sentence.  The  one 
question  now  was — "what  did  she  mean?" 

There  was  one  thought  that  kept  popping  into  his 
143 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

head,  but  it  was  too  hideous  for  a  moment's  belief.  He 
stamped  on  it  as  he  would  a  snake  and  hurried  on  to 
other  possibilities.  There  was  but  one  thing  he  could 
do  and  that  was  to  await  with  increasing  dread  her  first 
move. 


144 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   LARGER    VISION 

His  mind  had  just  settled  into  this  attitude  of  alert 
watchfulness  toward  Cleo  when  the  first  danger  the  doc 
tor  dreaded  for  his  wife  began  to  take  shape. 

The  feverish  brightness  in  her  eyes  grew  dimmer  and 
her  movements  less  vigorous.  The  dreaded  reaction  had 
come  and  the  taut  strings  of  weakened  nerves  could 
bear  the  strain  no  longer. 

With  a  cry  of  despair  she  threw  herself  into  his 
arms: 

"Oh,  Dan,  dear,  it's  no  use!  I've  tried — I've  tried 
so  hard — but  I  can't  do  it — I  just  don't  want  to  live 
any  more !" 

tHe  put  his  hands  over  the  trembling,  thin  lips : 
"Hush,  dearest,  you  mustn't  say  that — it's  just  a 
minute's  reaction.  You're  blue  this  morning,  that's  all. 
It's  the  weather — a  dreary  foggy  day.  The  sun  will 
be  shining  again  to-morrow.  It's  shining  now  behind 
the  mists  if  we  only  remember  it.  The  trees  are  bare, 
but  their  buds  are  swelling  and  these  days  of  cold  and 
fog  and  rain  must  come  to  make  them  burst  in  glory. 
Come,  let  me  put  your  shawl  around  you  and  I'll  show 
you  how  the  flowers  have  pushed  up  in  the  sheltered 
places  the  past  week." 

He  drew  the  hands,  limp  and  cold,  from  his  neck, 
picked  up  her  shawl,  tenderly  placed  it  about  her  shoul- 

145 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

ders,  lifted  her  in  his  strong  arms,  and  carried  her  to 
the  old  rose  garden  behind  the  house. 

Don  sniffed  his  leg,  and  looked  up  into  his  face  with 
surprise  at  the  unexpected  frolic.  He  leaped  into 
the  air,  barked  softly  and  ran  in  front  to  show  the 
way. 

"You  see,  old  Don  knows  the  sun  is  shining  behind 
the  clouds,  dear!" 

She  made  no  answer.  The  blonde  head  drooped 
limply  against  his  breast.  He  found  a  seat  on  the  south 
side  of  the  greenhouse  on  an  old  rustic  bench  his  father 
had  built  of  cedar  when  he  was  a  boy. 

"There,"  he  said  cheerfully,  as  he  smoothed  her  dress 
and  drew  her  close  by  his  side.  "You  can  feel  the 
warmth  of  the  sun  here  reflected  from  the  glass.  The 
violets  are  already  blooming  along  the  walks.  The  jon 
quils  are  all  gone,  and  the  rose  bushes  have  begun  to 
bud.  You  mustn't  talk  about  giving  up.  We  haven't 
lived  yet." 

"But  I'm  tired,  Dan,  tired " 

"It's  just  for  a  moment,  remember,  my  love.  You'll 
feel  differently  to-morrow.  The  world  is  always  beauti 
ful  if  we  only  have  eyes  to  see  and  ears  to  hear.  Watch 
that  smoke  curling  straight  up  from  the  chimney !  That 
means  the  clouds  are  already  lifting  and  the  sun  will 
burst  through  them  this  afternoon.  You  mustn't  brood, 
dearest.  You  must  forget  the  misery  that  has  darkened 
our  world  for  a  moment  and  remember  that  it's  only  the 
dawn  of  a  new  life  for  us  both.  We  are  just  boy  and 
girl  yet.  There's  nothing  impossible.  I'm  going  to 
prove  to  you  that  my  love  is  the  deathless  thing  in  me 
— the  thing  that  links  me  to  God." 

"You  really  love  me  so  ?"  she  asked  softly. 

146 


THE  LARGER    VISION 


"Give  me  a  chance  to  prove  it.  That's  all  I  ask. 
Men  sometimes  wait  until  they're  past  forty  before  they 
begin  to  sow  their  wild  oats.  I  am  only  twenty-five 
now.  This  tragic  sin  and  shame  has  redeemed  life.  It's 
yours  forever — you  must  believe  me  when  I  say  this, 
dearest " 

"I  try,"  she  broke  in  wearily.  "I  try,  Dan,  but  it's 
hard  to  believe  anything  now — oh,  so  hard " 

"But  can't  you  understand,  my  love,  how  I  have 
been  headstrong  and  selfish  before  the  shock  of  my  fall 
brought  me  to  my  senses?  And  that  the  terror  of  los 
ing  you  has  taught  me  how  deep  and  eternal  the  roots 
of  our  love  have  struck  and  this  knowledge  led  me  into 
the  consciousness  of  a  larger  and  more  wonderful  life — 
can't — can't  you  understand  this,  dearest?" 

His  voice  sank  to  the  lowest  reverent  whisper  as  he 
ceased  to  speak.  She  stroked  his  hand  with  a  pathetic 
little  gesture  of  tenderness. 

"Yes,  I  believe  you,"  she  said  with  a  far-away  look 
in  her  eyes.  "I  know  that  I  can  trust  you  now  im 
plicitly,  and  what  I  can't  understand  is  that — feeling 
this  so  clearly — still  I  have  no  interest  in  life.  Some 
thing  has  snapped  inside  of  me.  Life  doesn't  seem 
worth  the  struggle  any  longer " 

"But  it  is,  dear !  Life  is  always  good,  always  beauti 
ful,  and  always  worth  the  struggle.  We've  but  to  lift 
our  eyes  and  see.  Sin  is  only  our  stumbling  in  the  dark 
as  we  grope  toward  the  light.  I'm  going  to  be  a  hum 
bler  and  better  man.  I  am  no  longer  proud  and  vain. 
I've  a  larger  and  sweeter  vision.  I  feel  my  kinship  to 
the  weak  and  the  erring.  Alone  in  the  night  my  soul 
has  entered  into  the  fellowship  of  the  great  Brotherhood 
through  the  gates  of  suffering.  You  must  know  this, 

147 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

Jean — you  know  that  it's  true  as  I  thus  lay  my  heart's 
last  secret  bare  to  you  to-day. 

"Yes,  Dan,"  she  sighed  wearily,  "but  I'm  just  tired. 
I  don't  seem  to  recognize  anything  I  used  to  know.  I 
look  at  the  baby  and  he  don't  seem  to  be  mine.  I  look 
at  you  and  feel  that  you're  a  stranger.  I  look  at  my 
room,  the  lawn,  the  street,  the  garden — no  matter  where, 
and  I'm  dazed.  I  feel  that  I've  lost  my  way.  I  don't 
know  how  to  live  any  more." 

For  an  hour  he  held  her  hand  and  pleaded  with  all 
the  eloquence  of  his  love  that  she  would  let  him  teach 
her  again,  and  all  she  could  do  was  to  come  back  for 
ever  in  the  narrow  circle  her  mind  had  beaten.  She 
was  tired  and  life  no  longer  seemed  worth  while ! 

He  kissed  the  drooping  eyelids  at  last  and  laughed 
a  willful,  daring  laugh  as  he  gathered  her  in  his  arms 
and  walked  slowly  back  into  the  house. 

"You've  got  to  live,  my  own!  I'll  show  you  how! 
I'll  breathe  my  fierce  desire  into  your  soul  and  call  you 
back  even  from  the  dead !" 

Yet  in  spite  of  all  she  drooped  and  weakened  daily, 
and  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight  began  to  complain  of  a 
feeling  of  uneasiness  in  her  throat. 

The  old  doctor  said  nothing  when  she  made  this  an 
nouncement.  He  drew  his  beetling  eyebrows  low  and 
walked  out  on  the  lawn. 

Pale  and  haggard,  Norton  followed  him. 

"Well,  doctor?"  he  asked  queerly. 

"There's  only  one  thing  to  do.  Get  her  away  from 
here  at  once,  to  the  most  beautiful  spot  you  can  find, 
high  altitude  with  pure,  stimulating  air.  The  change 
may  help  her.  That's  all  I  can  say" — he  paused,  laid 
his  hand  on  the  husband's  arm  and  went  on  earnestly — 

148 


THE   LARGER    VISION 


"and  if  you  haven't  discussed  that  affair  with  her,  you'd 
better  try  it.  Tear  the  old  wound  open,  go  to  the  bot 
tom  of  it,  find  the  thing  that's  festering  there  and  root 
it  out  if  you  can — the  thing  that's  caused  this  break." 

The  end  of  another  week  found  them  in  Asheville, 
North  Carolina. 

The  wonderful  views  of  purple  hills  and  turquoise  sky 
stretching  away  into  the  infinite  thrilled  the  heart  of  the 
little  invalid. 

It  was  her  first  trip  to  the  mountains.  She  never 
tired  the  first  two  days  of  sitting  in  the  big  sun-parlor 
beside  the  open  fire  logs  and  gazing  over  the  valleys 
and  watching  the  fleet  clouds  with  their  marvelous  col 
oring.  The  air  was  too  chill  in  these  early  days  of 
spring  for  her  to  feel  comfortable  outside.  But  a  great 
longing  began  to  possess  her  to  climb  the  mountains 
and  feel  their  beauty  at  closer  range. 

She  sat  by  his  side  in  her  room  and  held  his  hand 
while  they  watched  the  glory  of  the  first  cloud-flecked 
mountain  sunset.  The  river  lay  a  crooked  silver  ribbon 
in  the  deepening  shadows  of  the  valley,  while  the  sky 
stretched  its  dazzling  scarlet  canopy  high  in  heaven 
above  it.  The  scarlet  slowly  turned  to  gold,  and  then 
to  deepening  purple  and  with  each  change  revealed  new 
beauty  to  the  enraptured  eye. 

She  caught  her  breath  and  cried  at  last : 

"Oh,  it  is  a  beautiful  world,  Dan,  dear — and  I  wish 
I  could  live !" 

He  laughed  for  joy: 

"Then  you  shall,  dearest!  You  shall,  of  course  you 
shall!" 

"I  want  you  to  take  me  over  every  one  of  those  won 
derful  purple  hills!" 

149 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"Yes,  dear,  I  will !" 

"I  dream  as  I  sit  and  look  at  them  that  God  lives 
somewhere  in  one  of  those  deep  shadows  behind  a  daz 
zling  cloud,  and  that  if  we  only  drive  along  those  ragged 
cliffs  among  them  we'd  come  face  to  face  with  Him  some 
day " 

He  looked  at  her  keenly.  There  was  again  that  un 
natural  brightness  in  her  eyes  which  he  didn't  like  and 
yet  he  took  courage.  The  day  was  a  glorious  one  in 
the  calendar.  Hope  had  dawned  in  her  heart. 

"The  first  warm  da,y  we'll  go,  dear,"  he  cried  with  the 
enthusiasm  of  a  boy,  "and  take  mammy  and  the  kid 
with  us,  too,  if  you  say  so " 

"No,  I  want  just  you,  Dan.  The  long  ride  might  tire 
the  baby,  and  I  might  wish  to  stay  up  there  all  night.  I 
shall  never  grow  tired  of  those  hills." 

"It's  sweet  to  hear  you  talk  like  that,"  he  cried  with 
a  smile. 

He  selected  a  gentle  horse  for  their  use  and  five  days 
later,  when  the  sun  rose  with  unusual  warmth,  they 
took  their  first  mountain  drive. 

Along  the  banks  of  crystal  brooks  that  dashed  their 
sparkling  waters  over  the  rocks,  up  and  up  winding, 
narrow  roads  until  the  town  became  a  mottled  white 
spot  in  the  valley  below,  and  higher  still  until  the  shin 
ing  clouds  they  had  seen  from  the  valley  rolled  silently 
into  their  faces,  melting  into  the  gray  mists  of  fog! 

In  the  midst  of  one  of  these  clouds,  the  little  wife 
leaned  close  and  whispered: 

"We're  in  heaven  now,  Dan — we're  passing  through 
the  opal  gates !  I  shouldn't  be  a  bit  surprised  to  see 
Him  at  any  moment  up  here 

A  lump  suddenly  rose  in  his  throat.  Her  voice 
150 


THE   LARGER    VISION 


sounded  unreal.  He  bent  close  and  saw  the  strange 
bright  light  again  in  her  eyes.  And  the  awful  thought 
slowly  shaped  itself  that  the  light  he  saw  was  the  shin 
ing  image  of  the  angel  of  Death  reflected  there. 

He  tried  to  laugh  off  his  morbid  fancy  now  that  she 
had  begun  to  find  the  world  so  beautiful,  but  the  idea 
haunted  him  with  increasing  terror.  He  couldn't  shake 
off  the  impression. 

An  hour  later  he  asked  abruptly : 

"You  have  felt  no  return  of  the  pain  in  your  throat, 
dear?" 

"Just  a  little  last  night,  but  not  to-day — I've  been 
happy  to-day." 

He  made  up  his  mind  to  telegraph  to  New  York  at 
once  for  the  specialist  to  examine  her  throat. 

The  fine  weather  continued  unbroken.  Every  day 
for  a  week  she  sat  by  his  side  and  drifted  over  sunlit 
valleys,  lingered  beside  beautiful  waters  and  climbed  a 
new  peak  to  bathe  in  sun-kissed  clouds.  On  the  top  of 
one  of  these  peaks  they  found  a  farmhouse  where 
lodgers  were  allowed  for  the  night.  They  stayed  to  see 
the  sunrise  next  morning.  Mammy  would  not  worry, 
they  had  told  her  they  might  spend  the  night  on  these 
mountain  trips. 

The  farmer  called  them  in  time — just  as  the  first 
birds  were  waking  in  the  trees  by  their  window. 

It  was  a  climb  of  only  two  hundred  yards  to  reach 
the  top  of  a  great  boulder  that  gave  an  entrancing  view 
in  four  directions.  To  the  west  lay  the  still  sleeping 
town  of  Asheville  half  hidden  among  its  hills  and  trees. 
Eastward  towered  the  giant  peaks  of  the  Blue  Ridge, 
over  whose  ragged  crests  the  sun  was  climbing. 

The  young  husband  took  the  light  form  in  his  strong 
151 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

arms  and  carried  her  to  the  summit.  He  placed  his 
coat  on  the  rocky  ledge,  seated  her  on  it,  and  slipped  his 
arm  around  the  slim  waist.  There  in  silence  they 
watched  the  changing  glory  of  the  sky  and  saw  the 
shadows  wake  and  flee  from  the  valleys  at  the  kiss  of 
the  sun. 

He  felt  the  moment  had  come  tnat  he  might  say  some 
things  he  had  waited  with  patience  to  speak : 

"You  are  sure,  dear,  that  you  have  utterly  forgiven 
the  great  wrong  I  did  you?" 

"Yes,  Dan,"  she  answered  simply,  "why  do  you  ask?" 

"I  just  want  to  be  sure,  my  Jean,"  he  said  tenderly, 
"that  there's  not  a  single  dark  corner  of  your  heart 
in  which  the  old  shadows  lurk.  I  want  to  drive  them 
all  out  with  my  love  just  as  we  see  the  sun  now  light 
ing  with  glory  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  world. 
You  are  sure?" 

The  thin  lips  quivered  uncertainly  and  her  blue  eyes 
wavered  as  he  searched  their  depths. 

"There's  one  thing,  Dan,  that  I'll  never  quite  face,  I 
think" — she  paused  and  turned  away. 

"What,  dear?" 

"How  any  man  who  had  ever  bent  over  a  baby's 
cradle  with  the  tenderness  and  love  I've  seen  in  your 
face  for  Tom,  could  forget  the  mother  who  gave  the  life 
at  his  command !" 

"I  didn't  forget,  dearest,"  he  said  sadly.  "I  fought 
as  a  wounded  man,  alone  and  unarmed,  fights  a  beast 
in  the  jungle.  With  her  sweet  spiritual  ideal  of  love  a 
sheltered,  innocent  woman  can't  remember  that  man  is 
still  an  animal,  with  tooth  and  claw  and  unbridled  pas 
sions,  that  when  put  to  the  test  his  religion  and  his 
civilization  often  are  only  a  thin  veneer,  that  if  he  be- 


THE   LARGER    VISION 


comes  a  civilized  human  being  in  his  relations  to  women 
it  is  not  by  inheritance,  for  he  is  yet  in  the  zoological 
period  of  development — but  that  it  is  by  the  divine 
achievement  of  character  through  struggle.  Try,  dear 
est,  if  you  can,  to  imagine  such  a  struggle.  This  prime 
val  man,  in  the  shadows  with  desires  inflamed  by  hunger, 
meets  this  free  primeval  woman  who  is  unafraid,  who 
laughs  at  the  laws  of  Society  because  she  has  nothing 
to  lose.  Both  are  for  the  moment  animals  pure  and 
simple.  The  universal  in  him  finds  its  counterpart  in 
the  universal  in  her.  And  whether  she  be  fair  or  dark, 
her  face,  her  form,  her  body,  her  desires  are  his — and, 
above  all,  she  is  near — and  in  that  moment  with  a  near 
ness  that  overwhelms  by  its  enfolding  animal  magnetism 
all  powers  of  the  mind  to  think  or  reflect.  Two  such 
beings  are  atoms  tossed  by  a  storm  of  forces  beyond 
their  control.  A  man  of  refinement  wakes  from  such  a 
crash  of  elemental  powers  dazed  and  humiliated.  Your 
lips  can  speak  no  word  as  vile,  no  curse  as  bitter  as  I 
have  hurled  against  myself " 

The  voice  broke  and  he  was  silent.  A  little  hand 
pressed  his,  and  her  words  were  the  merest  tender  whis 
per  as  she  leaned  close : 

"I've  forgiven  you,  my  love,  and  I'm  going  to  let  you 
teach  me  again  to  live.  I'll  be  a  very  docile  little 
scholar  in  your  school.  But  you  know  I  can't  forget 
in  a  moment  the  greatest  single  hour  that  is  given  a 
woman  to  know — the  hour  she  feels  the  breath  of  her 
first  born  on  her  breast.  It's  the  memory  of  that  hour 
that  hurts.  I  won't  try  to  deceive  you.  I'll  get  over  it 
in  the  years  to  come  if  God  sends  them " 

"He  will  send  them — he  will  send  them!"  the  man 
broke  in  with  desperate  emotion. 

153 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

Both  were  silent  for  several  minutes  and  a  smile  be 
gan  to  play  about  the  blue  eyes  when  she  spoke  at  last : 

"You  remember  how  angry  you  were  that  morning 
when  you  found  a  doctor  and  a  nurse  in  charge  of  your 
home?  And  the  great  fear  that  gripped  your  heart  at 
the  first  mad  cry  of  pain  I  gave?  I  laughed  at  myself 
the  next  moment.  And  then  how  I  found  your  hand 
and  wouldn't  let  you  go.  The  doctor  stormed  and 
ordered  you  out,  and  I  just  held  on  and  shook  my  head, 
and  you  stayed.  And  when  the  doctor  turned  his  back  I 
whispered  in  your  ear : 

"  'You  won't  leave  me,  Dan,  darling,  for  a  single  mo 
ment — promise  me — swear  it!' 

"And  you  answered : 

"  'Yes,  I  swear  it,  honey — but  you  must  be  very 
brave — braver  than  I  am,  you  know' 

"And  you  begged  me  to  take  an  anesthetic  and  I 
wouldn't,  like  a  little  fool.  I  wanted  to  know  all  and 
feel  all  if  it  killed  me.  And  the  anguish  of  your  face 
became  so  terrible,  dear — I  was  sorrier  for  you  than 
for  myself.  And  when  I  saw  your  lips  murmuring  in  an 
agony  of  prayer,  I  somehow  didn't  mind  it  then " 

She  paused,  looked  far  out  over  the  hills  and  con 
tinued  : 

"What  a  funny  cry  he  gave — that  first  one — not  a 
real  baby  cry — just  a  funny  little  grunt  like  a  good- 
natured  pig!  And  how  awfully  disappointed  you  were 
at  the  shapeless  bundle  of  red  flesh  that  hardly  looked 
human !  But  I  could  see  the  lines  of  your  dear  face  in 
his,  I  knew  that  he  would  be  even  handsomer  than  his 
big,  brave  father  and  pressed  him  close  and  laughed  for 

joy " 

She  stopped  and  sighed: 

154 


THE  LARGER    VISION 


"You  see,  Dan,  what  I  couldn't  understand  is  how 
any  man  who  has  felt  the  pain  and  the  glory  of  this, 
with  his  hand  clasped  in  the  hand  of  the  woman  he 
loves,  their  two  souls  mirrored  in  that  first  pair  of 
mysterious  little  eyes  God  sent  from  eternity — how 
he  could  forget  the  tie  that  binds " 

He  made  no  effort  to  interrupt  her  until  the  last  bit 
ter  thought  that  had  been  rankling  in  her  heart  was  out. 
He  was  looking  thoughtfully  over  the  valley.  An  eagle 
poised  above  the  field  in  the  foreground,  darted  to  the 
stubble  with  lightning  swiftness  and  rose  with  a  flutter 
ing  brown  quail  in  his  talons.  His  shrill  cry  of  triumph 
rang  pitilessly  in  the  stillness  of  the  heights. 

The  little  figure  gave  an  unconscious  shiver  and  she 
added  in  low  tones: 

"I'm  never  going  to  speak  of  this  nameless  thing 
again,  Dan,  but  you  asked  me  this  morning  and  I've  told 
you  what  was  in  my  heart.  I  just  couldn't  understand 
how  you  could  forget " 

"Only  a  beast  could,  dearest,"  he  answered  with  a 
curl  of  the  lip.  "I'm  something  more  than  that  now, 
taught  by  the  bitterness  of  experience.  You're  just  a 
sweet,  innocent  girl  who  has  never  looked  the  world  as 
it  is  in  the  face.  Reared  as  you  were,  you  can't  under 
stand  that  there's  a  difference  as  deep  as  the  gulf  be 
tween  heaven  and  hell,  in  the  divine  love  that  binds 
my  soul  and  body  and  life  to  you  and  the  sudden  pass 
ing  of  a  storm  of  passion.  Won't  you  try  to  remember 
this?" 

"Yes,  dear,  I  will " 

She  looked  into  his  eyes  with  a  smile  of  tenderness: 

"A  curious  change  is  coming  over  you,  Dan.  I  can 
begin  to  see  it.  There  used  to  be  a  line  of  cruelty 

155 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

sometimes  about  your  mouth  and  a  flash  of  it  in  your 
eyes.  They're  gone.  There's  something  strong  and 
tender,  wise  and  sweet,  in  their  place.  If  I  were  an 
artist  I  could  paint  it  but  I  can't  just  tell  you  what 
it  is.  I  used  to  think  the  cruel  thing  I  saw  in  you  was 
the  memory  of  the  war.  Your  eyes  saw  so  much  of 
blood  and  death  and  pain  and  cruelty " 

"Perhaps  it  was,"  he  said  slowly.  "War  does  make 
men  cruel — unconsciously  cruel.  We  lose  all  sense  of 
the  value  of  human  life " 

"No,  it  wasn't  that,"  she  protested,  "it  was  the  other 
thing — the — the — Beast  you've  been  talking  about.  It's 
not  there  any  more,  Dan — and  I'm  going  to  be  happy 
now.  I  know  it,  dear " 

He  bent  and  kissed  the  slender  fingers. 

"If  this  old  throat  of  mine  just  won't  bother  me 
again,"  she  added. 

He  looked  at  her  and  turned  pale : 

"It's  bothering  you  this  morning?" 

She  lifted  the  delicately  shaped  head  and  touched 
her  neck: 

"Not  much  pain,  but  a  sense  of  fullness.  I  feel  as  if 
I'm  going  to  choke  sometimes." 

He  rose  abruptly,  a  great  fear  in  his  heart : 

"We'll  go  back  to  town  at  once.  The  doctor  should 
arrive  at  three  from  New  York." 

"Let's  not  hurry,"  she  cried  smiling.  "I'm  happy 
now.  You're  my  old  sweetheart  again  and  I'm  on  a 
new  honeymoon " 

He  gazed  at  the  white  slender  throat.  She  was  look 
ing  unusually  well.  He  wondered  if  this  were  a  trick 
of  the  enemy  to  throw  him  off  his  guard.  He  won 
dered  what  was  happening  in  those  tiny  cells  behind 

156 


THE  LARGER    VISION 


the  smooth  round  lines  of  the  beautiful  neck.  It  made 
him  sick  and  faint  to  think  of  the  possibility  of  another 
attack — just  when  the  fight  was  over — just  when  she 
had  begun  to  smile  and  find  life  sweet  again!  His  soul 
rose  in  fierce  rebellion.  It  was  too  horrible  for  belief. 
He  simply  wouldn't  believe  it ! 

"All  right !"  he  exclaimed  with  decision.  "We'll  stay 
here  till  two  o'clock,  anyhow.  We  can  drive  back  in 
three  hours.  The  train  will  be  late — it  always  is." 

Through  the  long  hours  of  a  wonderful  spring  morn 
ing  they  basked  in  the  sun  side  by  side  on  a  bed  of  leaves 
he  piled  in  a  sheltered  spot  on  the  mountain  side.  They 
were  boy  and  girl  again.  The  shadows  had  lifted  and 
the  world  was  radiant  with  new  glory.  They  talked 
of  the  future  and  the  life  of  perfect  mutual  faith  and 
love  that  should  be  theirs. 

And  each  moment  closer  came  the  soft  footfall  of  an 
unseen  angel. 


157 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  OPAL  GATES 

THE  doctor  was  waiting  at  the  hotel,  his  keen  eyes 
very  serious.  He  had  guessed  the  sinister  meaning  of 
the  summons.  He  was  an  unusually  brusque  man — al 
most  rude  in  his  words.  He  greeted  Norton  with 
friendly  sympathy  and  smiled  at  the  radiant  face  of 
the  wife. 

"Well,  little  mother,"  he  said  with  grave  humor,  "we 
have  more  trouble.  But  you're  brave  and  patient.  It's 
a  joy  to  work  for  you." 

"And  now,"  she  responded  gayly,  "you've  got  to  fin 
ish  this  thing,  doctor.  I  don't  want  any  more  half-way 
operations.  I'm  going  to  get  well  this  time.  I'm  happy 
and  I'm  going  to  be  strong  again." 

"Good,  we'll  get  at  it  right  away.  I  kn«w  you'd 
feel  that  way  and  so  I  brought  with  me  a  great  surgeon, 
the  most  skillful  man  I  know  in  New  York.  I've  told 
him  of  your  case,  a  very  unusual  one,  and  he  is  going 
to  help  me." 

The  little  mouth  smiled  bravely : 

"I'll  be  ready  for  the  examination  in  half  an 
hour " 

When  the  doctors  emerged  from  her  room  the  sun 
had  set  behind  the  dark  blue  hills  and  Norton  was  wait 
ing  on  the  balcony  for  their  report. 

The  specialist  walked  slowly  to  where  he  was  stand- 
158 


THE   OPAL   GATES 


ing.  He  couldn't  move  from  his  tracks.  His  throat 
was  dry  and  he  had  somehow  lost  the  power  of  speech. 
He  looked  into  the  face  of  the  man  of  science,  read  the 
story  of  tragedy  and  a  mist  closed  his  eyes. 

The  doctor  took  his  arm  gently: 

"I've  bad  news  for  you " 

"Yes,  I  know,"  was  the  low  answer. 

"The  truth  is  best " 

"I  want  to  know  it." 

"She  can't  live !" 

The  tall  figure  stiffened,  there  was  a  moment  of 
silence  and  when  he  spoke  his  words  fell  slowly  with 
measured  intensity: 

"There's  not  a  single  chance,  doctor?" 

"Not  worth  your  cherishing.  You'd  as  well  know 
this  now  and  be  prepared.  We  opened  and  drained  the 
old  wound,  and  both  agreed  that  it  is  too  late  for  an 
operation.  The  flesh  that  guards  the  wall  of  the  great 
vein  is  a  mere  shred.  She  would  die  under  the  opera 
tion.  I  can't  undertake  it." 

"And  it  will  not  heal  again?" 

The  doctor  was  silent  for  a  long  while  and  his  eyes 
wandered  to  the  darkening  sky  where  the  stars  were 
coming  out  one  by  one: 

"Who  knows  but  God?  And  who  am  I  to  set  bounds 
to  his  power?" 

"Then  there  may  be  a  slender  chance?"  he  asked 
eagerly. 

"To  the  eye  of  Science — no — yet  while  life  lingers 
we  always  hope.  But  I  wouldn't  advise  you  to  leave  her 
side  for  the  next  ten  days.  The  end,  if  it  comes,  will 
be  very  sudden,  and  it  will  be  too  late  for  speech." 

A  groan  interrupted  his  words  and  Norton  leaned 
159 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 


heavily  against  the  balcony  rail.     The  doctor's  voice 
was  full  of  feeling  as  he  continued: 

"If  you  have  anything  to  say  to  her  you'd  better  say 
it  quickly  to  be  sure  that  it  does  not  remain  unsaid." 

"Thank  you " 

"I  have  told  her  nothing  more  can  be  done  now  until 
the  wound  from  this  draining  heals — that  when  it  does 
she  can  come  to  New  York  for  a  final  decision  on  the 
operation." 

"I  understand." 

"We  leave  to-night  on  the  midnight  express " 

"You  can  do  nothing  more?" 

"Nothing." 

A  warm  pressure  of  the  hand  in  the  gathering  twi 
light  and  he  was  gone.  The  dazed  man  looked  toward 
the  fading  sky-line  of  the  southwest  at  Mt.  Pisgah's 
towering  black  form  pushing  his  way  into  the  track  of 
the  stars  and  a  feeling  of  loneliness  crushed  his  soul. 

He  turned  abruptly,  braced  himself  for  the  ordeal 
and  hurried  to  her  room.  She  was  unusually  bright  and 
cheerful. 

»      "Why,  it  didn't  hurt  a  bit,  dear!"  she  exclaimed  joy 
fully.     "It  was  nothing.     And  when  it  heals  you're  to 
/take  me  to  New  York  for  the  operation " 

He  took  her  hot  hand  and  kissed  it  through  blinding 
tears  which  he  tried  in  vain  to  fight. back. 

"They  didn't  even  have  to  pack  that  nasty  old  gauze 
in  it  again — were  you  very  much  scared  waiting  out 
there,  Dan?" 

"Very  much." 

She  started  at  the  queer  note  in  his  voice,  caught  her 
hand  in  his  brown  locks  and  pressed  his  head  back  in 
view: 

160 


THE   OPAL   GATES 


"Why,  you're  crying — you  big  foolish  boy!  You 
mustn't  do  that.  I'm  all  right  now — I  feel  much  better 
— there's  not  a  trace  of  pain  or  uneasiness.  Don't  be 
silly — it's  all  right,  remember." 

He  stroked  the  little  hand : 

"Yes,  I'll  remember,  dearest." 

"It  should  all  be  healed  in  three  weeks  and  then  we'll 
go  to  New  York.  It'll  just  be  fun!  I've  always  been 
crazy  to  go.  I  won't  mind  the  operation — you'll  be 
with  me  every  minute  now  till  I'm  well  again." 

"Yes,  dear,  every  moment  now  until — you — are — 
well." 

The  last  words  came  slowly,  but  by  a  supreme  effort 
of  will  the  voice  was  held  even. 

He  found  mammy,  told  her  the  solemn  truth,  and  sent 
her  to  hire  a  nurse  for  the  baby. 

"Either  you  or  I  must  be  by  her  side  every  minute 
now,  mammy — day  and  night." 

"Yessir,  I  understand,"  the  dear  old  voice  answered. 

Every  morning  early  the  nurse  brought  the  baby  in 
for  a  romp  as  soon  as  he  waked  and  mammy  came  to 
relieve  the  tired  watcher. 

Ten  days  passed  before  the  end  came.  Many  long, 
sweet  hours  he  had  with  her  hand  in  his  as  the  great 
shadow  deepened,  while  he  talked  to  her  of  life  and 
death,  and  immortality. 

A  strange  peace  had  slowly  stolen  into  his  heart.  He 
had  always  hated  and  feared  death  before.  Now  his 
fears  had  gone.  And  the  face  of  the  dim  white  mes 
senger  seemed  to  smile  at  him  from  the  friendly  shadows. 

The  change  came  quietly  one  night  as  they  sat  in 
the  moonlight  of  her  window. 

"Oh,  what  a  beautiful  world,  Dan!"  she  said  softly, 

161 


THE 'SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

and  then  the  little  hand  suddenly  grasped  her  throat! 
She  turned  a  blanched  face  on  him  and  couldn't  speak. 

He  lifted  her  tenderly  and  laid  her  on  the  bed,  rang 
for  the  doctor  and  sent  mammy  for  the  baby. 

She  motioned  for  a  piece  of  paper — and  slowly  wrote 
in  a  queer,  trembling  hand: 

"I  understand,  dearest,  I  am  going — it's  all  right.  I  am 
happy — remember  that  I  love  you  and  have  forgiven — rear 
our  boy  free  from  the  curse — you  know  what  I  mean.  I 
had  rather  a  thousand  times  that  he  should  die  than  this — 
my  brooding  spirit  will  watch  and  guard." 

The  baby  kissed  her  sweetly  and  lisped : 

"Good  night,  mamma !" 

From  the  doorway  he  waved  his  chubby  little  arm 
and  cried  again: 

"Night,  night,  mamma!" 

The  sun  was  slowly  climbing  the  eastern  hills  when 
the  end  came.  Its  first  rays  streamed  through  the  win 
dow  and  fell  on  his  haggard  face  as  he  bent  and  pressed 
a  kiss  on  the  silent  lips  of  the  dead. 


162 


CHAPTER  XVHI 

QUESTIONS 

THE  thing  that  crushed  the  spirit  of  the  man  was  not 
the  shock  of  death  with  its  thousand  and  one  unanswer 
able  questions  torturing  the  soul,  but  the  possibility 
that  his  acts  had  been  the  cause  of  the  tragedy.  Dr. 
Williams  had  said  to  him  over  and  over  again : 

"Make  her  will  to  live  and  she'll  recover !" 

He  had  fought  this  grim  battle  and  won.  She  had 
willed  to  live  and  was  happy.  The  world  had  never 
seemed  so  beautiful  as  the  day  she  died.  If  the  cause 
of  her  death  lay  further  back  in  the  curious  accident 
which  happened  at  the  birth  of  the  child,  his  soul  was 
clear  of  guilt. 

He  held  none  of  the  morbid  fancies  of  the  super- 
sensitive  mind  that  would  make  a  father  responsible  for 
a  fatal  outcome  in  the  birth  of  a  babe.  God  made 
women  to  bear  children.  The  only  woman  to  be  pitied 
was  the  one  who  could  not  know  the  pain,  the  joy  and 
the  danger  of  this  divine  hour. 

But  the  one  persistent  question  to  which  his  mind 
'forever  returned  was  whether  the  shock  of  his  sin  had 
weakened  her  vitality  and  caused  the  return  of  this  old 
trouble. 

The  moment  he  left  the  grave  on  the  day  of  her 
burial,  he  turned  to  the  old  doctor  with  this  grim  ques 
tion.  He  told  him  the  whole  story.  He  told  him  every 

163 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

word  she  had  spoken  since  they  left  home.  He  re 
counted  every  hour  of  reaction  and  depression,  the  good 
and  the  bad,  just  as  the  recording  angel  might  have 
written  it.  He  ended  his  recital  with  the  burning  ques 
tion: 

"Tell  me  now,  doctor,  honestly  before  God,  did  I 
kill  her?" 

"Certainly  not!"  was  the  quick  response. 

"Don't  try  to  shield  me.  I  can  stand  the  truth.  I 
don't  belong  to  a  race  of  cowards.  After  this  no  pain 
can  ever  come  but  that  my  soul  shall  laugh !" 

"I'm  honest  with  you,  my  boy.  I've  too  much  self- 
respect  not  to  treat  you  as  a  man  in  such  an  hour. 
No,  if  she  died  as  you  say,  you  had  nothing  to  do  with 
it.  The  seed  of  death  was  hiding  there  behind  that 
slender,  graceful  throat.  I  was  always  afraid  of  it. 
And  I've  always  known  that  if  the  pain  returned  she'd 
die " 

"You  knew  that  before  we  left  home?" 

"Yes.  I  only  hinted  the  truth.  I  thought  the  change 
might  prolong  her  life,  that's  all." 

"You're  not  saying  this  to  cheer  me?  This  is  not 
one  of  your  lies  you  give  for  medicine  sometimes  ?" 

"No" — the  old  doctor  smiled  gravely.  "No,  shake 
off  this  nightmare  and  go  back  to  your  work.  Your 
people  are  calling  you." 

He  made  a  desperate  effort  to  readjust  himself  to 
life,  but  somehow  at  the  moment  the  task  was  hopeless. 
He  had  preached,  with  all  the  eloquence  of  the  en 
thusiasm  of  youth,  that  life  in  itself  is  always  beautiful 
and  always  good.  He  found  it  was  easier  to  preach 
a  thing  than  to  live  it. 

164 


QUESTIONS 


The  old  house  seemed  to  be  empty,  and,  strange  to 
say,  the  baby's  voice  didn't  fill  it.  He  had  said  to  him 
self  that  the  patter  of  his  little  feet  and  the  sound  of 
his  laughter  would  fill  its  halls,  make  it  possible  to  live, 
and  get  used  to  the  change.  But  it  wasn't  so.  Some 
how  the  child's  laughter  made  him  faint.  The  sound 
of  his  voice  made  the  memory  of  his  mother  an  intoler 
able  pain.  His  voice  in  the  morning  was  the  first  thing 
he  heard  and  it  drove  him  from  the  house.  At  night 
when  he  knelt  to  lisp  his  prayers  her  name  was  a  stab, 
and  when  he  waved  his  little  hands  and  said:  "Good 
night,  Papa !"  he  could  remember  nothing  save  the  last 
picture  that  had  burned  itself  into  his  soul. 

He  tried  to  feed  and  care  for  a  canary  she  had  kept 
in  her  room,  but  when  he  cocked  his  little  yellow  head 
and  gave  the  loving  plaintive  cry  with  which  he  used 
to  greet  her,  the  room  became  a  blur  and  he  staggered 
out  unable  to  return  for  a  day. 

The  silent  sympathy  of  his  dog,  as  he  thrust  his 
nose  between  his  hands  and  wagged  his  shaggy  tail, 
was  the  only  thing  that  seemed  to  count  for  anything. 

"I  understand,  Don,  old  boy,"  he  cried,  lifting  his 
paw  into  his  lap  and  slipping  his  arm  around  the  woolly 
neck,  "you're  telling  me  that  you  love  me  always,  good 
or  bad,  right  or  wrong.  I  understand,  and  it's  very 
sweet  to  know  it.  But  I've  somehow  lost  the  way  on 
life's  field,  old  boy.  The  night  is  coming  on  and  I 
can't  find  the  road  home.  You  remember  that  feeling 
when  we  were  lost  sometimes  in  strange  countries  hunt 
ing  together,  you  and  I?" 

Don  licked  his  hand  and  wagged  his  tail  again. 

He  rose  and  walked  through  the  lawn,  radiant  now 
with  the  glory  of  spring.  But  the  flowers  had  become 

165 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

the  emblems  of  Death  not  Life  and  their  odor  was 
oppressive. 

A  little  black  boy,  in  a  ragged  shirt  and  torn  trou 
sers,  barefooted  and  bareheaded,  stopped  at  the  gate, 
climbed  up  and  looked  over  with  idle  curiosity  at  his 
aimless  wandering.  He  giggled  and  asked : 

"Ye  don't  need  no  boy  fer  nothin,  do  ye?" 

The  man's  sombre  eyes  suddenly  lighted  with  a  look 
of  hate  that  faded  in  a  moment  and  he  made  no  reply. 
What  had  this  poor  little  ragamuffin,  his  face  smeared 
with  dirt  and  his  eyes  rolling  with  childish  mirth,  to  do 
with  tragic  problems  which  his  black  skin  symbolized! 
He  was  there  because  a  greedy  race  of  empire  builders 
had  need  of  his  labor.  He  had  remained  to  torment  and 
puzzle  and  set  at  naught  the  wisdom  of  statesmen  for 
the  same  reason.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  asked 
himself  a  startling  question: 

"Do  I  really  need  him?" 

Before  the  shock  that  threw  his  life  into  ruins  he 
would  have  answered  as  every  Southerner  always  an 
swered  at  that  time : 

"Certainly  I  need  him.  His  labor  is  indispensable  to 
the  South." 

But  to-day,  back  of  the  fire  that  flashed  in  his  eyes, 
there  had  been  born  a  new  thought.  He  was  destined 
to  forget  it  in  the  stress  of  the  life  of  the  future,  but 
it  was  there  growing  from  day  to  day.  The  thought 
shaped  itself  into  questions : 

"Isn't  the  price  we  pay  too  great?  Is  his  labor  worth 
more  than  the  purity  of  our  racial  stock?  Shall  we 
improve  the  breed  of  men  or  degrade  it?  Is  any  prog 
ress  that  degrades  the  breed  of  men  progress  at  all? 
Is  it  not  retrogression?  Can  we  afford  it?" 

166 


QUESTIONS 


He  threw  off  his  train  of  thought  with  a  gesture  of 
weariness  and  a  great  desire  suddenly  possessed  his 
heart  to  get  rid  of  such  a  burden  by  a  complete  break 
with  every  tie  of  life  save  one. 

"Why  not  take  the  boy  and  go?"  he  exclaimed. 

The  more  he  turned  the  idea  over  in  his  mind 
the  more  clearly  it  seemed  to  be  the  sensible  thing 
to  do. 

But  the  fighting  instinct  within  him  was  too  strong  for 
immediate  surrender.  He  went  to  his  office  determined 
to  work  and  lose  himself  in  a  return  to  its  old  habits. 

He  sat  down  at  his  desk,  but  his  mind  was  a  blank. 
There  wasn't  a  question  on  earth  that  seemed  worth 
writing  an  editorial  about.  Nothing  mattered. 

For  two  hours  he  sat  hopelessly  staring  at  his  ex 
changes.  The  same  world,  which  he  had  left  a  few  weeks 
before  when  he  had  gone  down  into  the  valley  of  the 
shadows  to  fight  for  his  life,  still  rolled  on  with  its  end 
less  story  of  joy  and  sorrow,  ambitions  and  struggle. 
It  seemed  now  the  record  of  the  buzzing  of  a  lot  of 
insects.  It  was  a  waste  of  time  to  record  such  a  strug 
gle  or  to  worry  one  way  or  another  about  it.  And  this 
effort  of  a  daily  newspaper  to  write  the  day's  history 
of  these  insects !  It  might  be  worth  the  while  of  a  phi 
losopher  to  pause  a  moment  to  record  the  blow  that 
would  wipe  them  out  of  existence,  but  to  get  excited 
again  over  their  little  squabbles — it  seemed  funny  now 
that  he  had  ever  been  such  a  fool! 

He  rose  at  last  in  disgust  and  seized  his  hat  to  go 
home  when  the  Chairman  of  the  Executive  Committee 
of  his  party  suddenly  walked  into  his  office  unan 
nounced.  His  face  was  wreathed  in  smiles  and  his  deep 
bass  voice  had  a  hearty,  genuine  ring: 

167 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"I've  big  news  for  you,  major!" 

The  editor  placed  a  chair  beside  his  desk,  motioned 
his  visitor  to  be  seated  and  quietly  resumed  his  seat. 

"It's  been  settled  for  some  time,"  he  went  on  enthu 
siastically,  "but  we  thought  best  not  to  make  the  an 
nouncement  so  soon  after  your  wife's  death.  I  reckon 
you  can  guess  my  secret?" 

"I  give  it  up,"  was  the  listless  answer. 

"The  Committee  has  voted  unanimously  to  make  you 
the  next  Governor.  Your  nomination  with  such  back 
ing  is  a  mere  formality.  Your  election  is  a  cer 
tainty " 

The  Chairman  sprang  to  his  feet  and  extended  his 
big  hand: 

"I  salute  the  Governor  of  the  Commonwealth — the 
youngest  man  in  the  history  of  the  state  to  hold  such 
high  office " 

"You  mean  it?"  Norton  asked  in  a  stupor. 

"Mean  it?  Of  course  I  mean  it!  Why  don't  you 
give  me  your  hand  ?  What's  the  matter  ?" 

"You  see,  I've  sort  of  lost  my  bearings  in  politics 
lately." 

The  Chairman's  voice  was  lowered: 

"Of  course,  major,  I  understand.  Well,  this  is  the 
medicine  you  need  now  to  brace  you  up.  For  the  first 
time  in  my  memory  a  name  will  go  before  our  conven 
tion  without  a  rival.  There'll  be  just  one  ballot 
and  that  will  be  a  single  shout  that'll  raise  the 
roof " 

Norton  rose  and  walked  to  his  window  overlooking 
the  Square,  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  often,  turn 
ing  his  back  for  a  moment  on  the  enthusiastic  poli 
tician. 

168 


QUESTIONS 


He  was  trying  to  think.  The  first  big  dream  of  his 
life  had  come  true  and  it  didn't  interest  him. 

He  turned  abruptly  and  faced  his  visitor: 

"Tell  your  Committee  for  me,"  he  said  with  slow  em- 
phatic  voice,  "that  I  appreciate  the  high  honor  they 
would  do  me,  but  cannot  accept " 

"What!" 

"I  cannot  accept  the  responsibility." 

"You  don't  mean  it?" 

"I  was  never  more  in  earnest." 

The  Chairman  slipped  his  arm  around  the  editor 
with  a  movement  of  genuine  sympathy: 

"Come,  my  boy,  this  is  nonsense.  I'm  a  veteran  poli 
tician.  No  man  ever  did  such  a  thing  as  this  in  the 
history  of  the  state !  You  can't  decline  such  an  honor. 
You're  only  twenty-five  years  old." 

"Time  is  not  measured  by  the  tick  of  a  clock,"  Nor 
ton  interrupted,  "but  by  what  we've  lived." 

"Yes,  yes,  we  know  you've  had  a  great  shock  in  the 
death  of  your  wife,  but  you  must  remember  that  the 
people — a  million  people — are  calling  you  to  lead  them. 
It's  a  solemn  duty.  Don't  say  no  now.  Take  a  little 
time  and  you'll  see  that  it's  the  work  sent  to  you  at  the 
moment  you  need  it  most.  I  won't  take  no  for  an 
answer " 

He  put  on  his  hat  and  started  to  the  door : 

"I'll  just  report  to  the  Committee  that  I  notified 
you  and  that  you  have  the  matter  under  considera 
tion." 

Before  Norton  could  enter  a  protest  the  politician 
had  gone. 

His  decision  was  instantly  made.  This  startling 
event  revealed  the  hopelessness  of  life  under  its  present 

169 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

conditions.  He  would  leave  the  South.  He  would  put 
a  thousand  miles  between  him  and  the  scene  of  the  events 
of  the  past  year.  He  would  leave  his  home  with  its  tor 
turing  memories. 

Above  all,  he  would  leave  the  negroid  conditions  that 
made  his  shame  possible  and  rear  his  boy  in  clean  air.  t 


170 


CHAPTER  XIX 

CLEG'S  CRY 

THE  decision  once  made  was  carried  out  without  de 
lay.  He  placed  an  editor  permanently  in  charge  of  his 
paper,  closed  the  tall  green  shutters  of  the  stately  old 
house,  sold  his  horses,  and  bought  tickets  for  himself 
and  mammy  for  New  York. 

He  paused  at  the  gate  and  looked  back  at  the  white 
pillars  of  which  he  had  once  been  so  proud.  He  hadn't 
a  single  regret  at  leaving. 

"A  house  doesn't  make  a  home,  after  all!"  he  sighed 
with  a  lingering  look. 

He  took  the  boy  to  the  cemetery  for  a  last  hour  be 
side  the  mother's  grave  before  he  should  turn  his  back 
on  the  scenes  of  his  old  life  forever. 

The  cemetery  was  the  most  beautiful  spot  in  the 
county.  At  this  period  of  the  life  of  the  South,  it  was 
the  one  spot  where  every  home  had  its  little  plot.  The 
war  had  killed  the  flower  of  Southern  manhood.  The 
bravest  and  the  noblest  boys  never  surrendered.  They 
died  with  a  shout  and  a  smile  on  their  lips  and  Southern 
women  came  daily  now  to  keep  their  love  watches  on 
these  solemn  bivouacs  of  the  dead.  The  girls  got  the 
habit  of  going  there  to  plant  flowers  and  to  tend  them 
and  grew  to  love  the  shaded  walks,  the  deep  boxwood 
hedges,  the  quiet,  sweetly  perfumed  air.  Sweethearts 
were  always  strolling  among  the  flowers  and  from  every 

171 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

nook  and  corner  peeped  a  rustic  seat  that  could  tell  its 
story  of  the  first  stammering  words  from  lovers'  lips. 

Norton  saw  them  everywhere  this  beautiful  spring 
afternoon,  the  girls  in  their  white,  clean  dresses,  the 
boys  bashful  and  self-conscious.  A  throb  of  pain 
gripped  his  heart  and  he  hurried  through  the  wilder 
ness  of  flowers  to  the  spot  beneath  a  great  oak  where 
he  had  laid  the  tired  body  of  the  first  and  only  woman 
he  had  ever  loved. 

He  placed  the  child  on  the  grass  and  led  him  to  the 
newly-made  mound,  put  into  his  tiny  hand  the  roses 
he  had  brought  and  guided  him  while  he  placed  them 
on  her  grave. 

"This  is  where  little  mother  sleeps,  my  boy,"  he  said 
softly.  "Remember  it  now — it  will  be  a  long,  long  time 
before  we  shall  see  it  again.  You  won't  forget " 

"No— dad-ee,"  he  lisped  sweetly.  "I'll  not  fordet, 
the  big  tree " 

The  man  rose  and  stood  in  silence  seeing  again  the 
last  beautiful  day  of  their  life  together  and  forgot  the 
swift  moments.  He  stood  as  in  a  trance  from  which 
he  was  suddenly  awakened  by  the  child's  voice  calling 
him  excitedly  from  another  walkway  into  which  he  had 
wandered : 

"Dad-ee!"  he  called  again. 

"Yes,  baby,"  he  answered. 

"Oh,  come  quick!   Dad-ee — here's  C-l-e-o!" 

Norton  turned  and  with  angry  steps  measured  the 
(distance  between  them. 

He  came  upon  them  suddenly  behind  a  boxwood 
hedge.  The  girl  was  kneeling  with  the  child's  arms 
around  her  neck,  clinging  to  her  with  all  the  yearning 
of  his  hungry  little  heart,  and  she  was  muttering  half 

172 


CLEO'S  CRY 


articulate  words  of  love  and  tenderness.     She  held  him 
from  her  a  moment,  looked  into  his  eyes  and  cried : 

"And  you  missed  me,  darling?" 

"Oh— C-l-e-o !"    he    cried,    "I   thought    'oo'd   nev-er 
.turn!" 

;     The  angry  words  died  in  the  man's  lips  as  he  watched 
the  scene  in  silence. 

He  stooped  and  drew  the  child  away: 

"Come,  baby,  we  must  go " 

"Turn  on,  C-l-e-o,  we  do  now,"  he  cried. 

The  girl  shook  her  head  and  turned  away. 

"Turn  on,  C-l-e-o!"  he  cried  tenderly. 

She  waved  him  a  kiss,  and  the  child  said  excitedly : 

"Oh,  dad-ee,  wait ! — wait  for  C-l-e-o !" 

"No,  my  baby,  she  can't  come  with  us " 

The  little  head  sank  to  his  shoulder,  a  sob  rose  from 
his  heart  and  he  burst  into  weeping.  And  through  the 
storm  of  tears  one  word  only  came  out  clear  and  soft 
and  plaintive: 

"C-l-e-o!    C-l-e-o!" 

The  girl  watched  them  until  they  reached  the  gate 
and  then,  on  a  sudden  impulse,  ran  swiftly  up,  caught 
,  the  child's  hand  that  hung  limply  down  his   father's 
'  back,  covered  it  with  kisses  and  cried  in  cheerful,  half- 
laughing  tones : 

"Don't  cry,  darling!  Cleo  will  come  again!" 

And  in  the  long  journey  to  the  North  the  man 
brooded  over  the  strange  tones  of  joyous  assurance 
with  which  the  girl  had  spoken. 


173 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE    BLOW    FALLS 

FOE  a  time  Norton  lost  himself  in  the  stunning  im 
mensity  of  the  life  of  New  York.  He  made  no  effort  to 
adjust  himself  to  it.  He  simply  allowed  its  waves  to 
roll  over  and  engulf  him. 

He  stopped  with  mammy  and  the  boy  at  a  brown- 
stone  boarding  house  on  Stuyvesant  Square  kept  by  a 
Southern  woman  to  whom  he  had  a  letter  of  introduction. 

Mrs.  Beam  was  not  an  ideal  landlady,  but  her  good- 
natured  helplessness  appealed  to  him.  She  was  a  large 
woman  of  ample  hips  and  bust,  and  though  very  tall 
seemed  always  in  her  own  way.  She  moved  slowly  and 
laughed  with  a  final  sort  of  surrender  to  fate  when  any 
thing  went  wrong.  And  it  was  generally  going  wrong. 
She  was  still  comparatively  young — perhaps  thirty-two 
— but  was  built  on  so  large  and  unwieldy  a  pattern  that 
it  was  not  easy  to  guess  her  age,  especially  as  she  had  a 
silly  tendency  to  harmless  kittenish  ways  at  times. 

The  poor  thing  was  pitifully  at  sea  in  her  new  world 
and  its  work.  She  had  been  reared  in  a  typically  ex 
travagant  home  of  the  old  South  where  slaves  had 
waited  her  call  from  childhood.  She  had  not  learned 
to  sew,  or  cook  or  keep  house — in  fact,  she  had  never 
learned  to  do  anything  useful  or  important.  So  nat 
urally  she  took  boarders.  Her  husband,  on  whose 
shoulders  she  had  placed  every  burden  of  life  the  day 

174 


THE   BLOW  FALLS 


of  her  marriage,  lay  somewhere  in  an  unmarked  trench 
on  a  Virginia  battlefield. 

She  couldn't  conceive  of  any  human  being  enduring 
a  servant  that  wasn't  black  and  so  had  turned  her  house 
over  to  a  lazy  and  worthless  crew  of  Northern  negro 
help.  The  house  was  never  clean,  the  waste  in  her 
kitchen  was  appalling,  but  so  long  as  she  could  find 
money  to  pay  her  rent  and  grocery  bills,  she  was  happy. 
Her  only  child,  a  daughter  of  sixteen,  never  dreamed 
of  lifting  her  hand  to  work,  and  it  hadn't  yet  occurred 
to  the  mother  to  insult  her  with  such  a  suggestion. 

Norton  was  not  comfortable  but  he  was  lonely,  and 
Mrs.  Beam's  easy  ways,  genial  smile  and  Southern 
weaknesses  somehow  gave  him  a  sense  of  being  at  home 
and  he  stayed.  Mammy  complained  bitterly  of  the  in 
solence  and  low  manners  of  the  kitchen.  But  he  only 
laughed  and  told  her  she'd  get  used  to  it. 

He  was  astonished  to  find  that  so  many  Southern 
people  had  drifted  to  New  York — exiles  of  all  sorts, 
with  one  universal  trait,  poverty  and  politeness. 

And  they  quickly  made  friends.  As  he  began  to 
realize  it,  his  heart  went  out  to  the  great  city  with 
a  throb  of  gratitude. 

When  the  novelty  of  the  new  world  had  gradually 
worn  off  a  feeling  of  loneliness  set  in.  He  couldn't  get 
used  to  the  crowds  on  every  street,  these  roaring  rivers 
of  strange  faces  rushing  by  like  the  waters  of  a  swollen 
stream  after  a  freshet,  hurrying  and  swirling  out  of 
its  banks. 

At  first  he  had  found  himself  trying  to  bow  to  every 
man  he  met  and  take  off  his  hat  to  every  woman.  It 
took  a  long  time  to  break  himself  of  this  Southern  in 
stinct.  The  thing  that  cured  him  completely  was  when 

175 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

he  tipped  his  hat  unconsciously  to  a  lady  on  Fifth  Ave 
nue.  She  blushed  furiously,  hurried  to  the  corner  and 
had  him  arrested. 

His  apology  was  so  abject,  so  evidently  sincere,  his 
grief  so  absurd  over  her  mistake  that  when  she  caught 
his  Southern  drawl,  it  was  her  turn  to  blush  and  ask 
his  pardon. 

A  feeling  of  utter  depression  and  pitiful  homesick 
ness  gradually  crushed  his  spirit.  His  soul  began  to 
cry  for  the  sunlit  fields  and  the  perfumed  nights  of  the 
South.  There  didn't  seem  to  be  any  moon  or  stars  here, 
and  the  only  birds  he  ever  saw  were  the  chattering  drab 
little  sparrows  in  the  parks. 

The  first  day  of  autumn,  as  he  walked  through  Cen 
tral  Park,  a  magnificent  Irish  setter  lifted  his  fine  head 
and  spied  him.  Some  subtle  instinct  told  the  dog  that 
the  man  was  a  hunter  and  a  lover  of  his  kind.  The 
setter  wagged  his  tail  and  introduced  himself.  Norton 
dropped  to  a  seat,  drew  the  shaggy  face  into  his  lap, 
and  stroked  his  head. 

He  was  back  home  again.  Don,  with  his  fine  nose 
high  in  the  air,  was  circling  a  field  and  Andy  was 
shouting: 

"He's  got  'em !     He's  got  'em  sho,  Marse  Dan !" 

He  could  see  Don's  slim  white  and  black  figure  step 
ping  slowly  through  the  high  grass  on  velvet  feet,  glanc 
ing  back  to  see  if  his  master  were  coming — the  muscles 
suddenly  stiffened,  his  tail  became  rigid,  and  the  whole 
covey  of  quail  were  under  his  nose! 

He  was  a  boy  again  and  felt  the  elemental  thrill  of 
man's  first  work  as  hunter  and  fisherman.  He  looked 
about  him  at  the  bald  coldness  of  the  artificial  park 
and  a  desperate  longing  surged  through  his  heart  to 

176 


THE   BLOW   FALLS 


be  among  his  own  people  again,  to  live  their  life  and 
feel  their  joys  and  sorrows  as  his  own. 

And  then  the  memory  of  the  great  tragedy  slowly 
surged  back,  he  pushed  the  dog  aside,  rose  and  hurried 
on  in  his  search  for  a  new  world. 

He  tried  the  theatres — saw  Booth  in  his  own  house 
on  23d  Street  play  "Hamlet"  and  Lawrence  Barrett 
"Othello,"  listened  with  rapture  to  the  new  Italian  Grand 
Opera  Company  in  the  Academy  of  Music — saw  a  bur 
lesque  in  the  Tammany  Theatre  on  14th  Street,  Lester 
Wallack  in  "The  School  for  Scandal"  at  Wallack's 
Theatre  on  Broadway  at  13th  Street,  and  Tony  Pas 
tor  in  his  variety  show  at  his  Opera  House  on  the  Bow 
ery,  and  yet  returned  each  night  with  a  dull  ache  in  his 
heart. 

Other  men  who  loved  home  less  perhaps  could  adjust 
themselves  to  new  surroundings,  but  somehow  in  him 
this  home  instinct,  this  feeling  of  personal  friendliness 
for  neighbor  and  people,  this  passion  for  house  and 
lawn,  flowers  and  trees  and  shrubs,  for  fields  and  rivers 
and  hills,  seemed  of  the  very  fibre  of  his  inmost  life.  This 
vast  rushing,  roaring,  impersonal  world,  driven  by  in 
visible  titanic  forces,  somehow  didn't  appeal  to  him. 
It  merely  stunned  and  appalled  and  confused  his  mind. 

And  then  without  warning  the  blow  fell. 

He  told  himself  afterwards  that  he  must  have  been 
waiting  for  it,  that  some  mysterious  power  of  mental 
telepathy  had  wired  its  message  without  words  across 
the  thousand  miles  that  separated  him  from  the  old  life, 
and  yet  the  surprise  was  complete  and  overwhelming. 

He  had  tried  that  morning  to  write.  A  story  was 
shaping  itself  in  his  mind  and  he  felt  the  impulse  to 
express  it.  But  he  was  too  depressed.  He  threw  his 

177 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

pencil  down  in  disgust  and  walked  to  his  window  facing 
the  little  park. 

It  was  a  bleak,  miserable  day  in  November — the  first 
freezing  weather  had  come  during  the  night  and  turned 
a  drizzling  rain  into  sleet.  The  streets  were  covered 
with  a  thin,  hard,  glistening  coat  of  ice.  A  coal  wagon 
had  stalled  in  front  of  the  house,  a  magnificent  draught 
horse  had  fallen  and  a  brutal  driver  began  to  beat  him 
unmercifully. 

Henry  Berg's  Society  had  not  yet  been  organized. 

Norton  rushed  from  the  door  and  faced  the  aston 
ished  driver: 

"Don't  you  dare  to  strike  that  horse  again !" 

The  workman  turned  his  half-drunken  face  on  the 
intruder  with  a  vicious  leer: 

"Well,  what  fell " 

"I  mean  it !" 

With  an  oath  the  driver  lunged  at  him: 

"Get  out  of  my  way !" 

The  big  fist  shot  at  Norton's  head.  He  parried  the 
attack  and  knocked  the  man  down.  The  driver 
scrambled  to  his  feet  and  plunged  forward  again.  A 
second  blow  sent  him  flat  on  his  back  on  the  ice  and 
his  body  slipped  three  feet  and  struck  the  curb. 

"Have  you  got  enough?"  Norton  asked,  towering 
over  the  sprawling  figure. 

"Yes." 

"Well,  get  up  now,  and  I'll  help  you  with  the 
horse." 

He  helped  the  sullen  fellow  unhitch  the  fallen  horse, 
lift  him  to  his  feet  and  readjust  the  harness.  He  put 
shoulder  to  the  wheel  and  started  the  wagon  again  on 
its  way. 

178 


THE   BLOW   FALLS 


He  returned  to  his  room  feeling  better.  It  was  the 
first  fight  he  had  started  for  months  and  it  stirred  his 
blood  to  healthy  reaction. 

He  watched  the  bare  limbs  swaying  in  the  bitter  wind 
in  front  of  St.  George's  Church  and  his  eye  rested  on 
the  steeples  the  architects  said  were  unsafe  and  might 
fall  some  day  with  a  crash,  and  his  depression  slowly 
returned.  He  had  waked  that  morning  with  a  vague 
sense  of  dread. 

"I  guess  it  was  that  fight!"  he  muttered.  "The 
scoundrel  will  be  back  in  an  hour  with  a  warrant  for 
my  arrest  and  I'll  spend  a  few  days  in  jail " 

The  postman's  whistle  blew  at  the  basement  window. 
He  knew  that  fellow  by  the  way  he  started  the  first 
notes  of  his  call — always  low,  swelling  into  a  peculiar 
shrill  crescendo  and  dying  away  in  a  weird  cry  of  pain. 

The  call  this  morning  was  one  of  startling  effects. 
It  was  his  high  nerve  tension,  of  course,  that  made  the 
difference — perhaps,  too,  the  bitter  cold  and  swirling 
gusts  of  wind  outside.  But  the  shock  was  none  the  less 
vivid.  The  whistle  began  so  low  it  seemed  at  first  the 
moaning  of  the  wind,  the  high  note  rang  higher  and 
higher,  until  it  became  the  shout  of  a  fiend,  and  died 
away  with  a  wail  of  agony  wrung  from  a  lost  soul. 

He  shivered  at  the  sound.  He  would  not  have  been 
surprised  to  receive  a  letter  from  the  dead  after  that. 

He  heard  some  one  coming  slowly  up  stairs.  It  was 
mammy  and  the  boy.  The  lazy  maid  had  handed  his 
mail  to  her,  of  course. 

His  door  was  pushed  open  and  the  child  ran  in  hold 
ing  a  letter  in  his  red,  chubby  hand : 

"A  letter,  daddy !"  he  cried. 

He  took  it  mechanically,  staring  at  the  inscription. 
179 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

He  knew  now  the  meaning  of  his  horrible  depression! 
She  was  writing  that  letter  when  it  began  yesterday. 
He  recognized  Cleo's  handwriting  at  a  glance,  though 
this  was  unusually  blurred  and  crooked.  The  post 
mark  was  Baltimore,  another  striking  fact. 

He  laid  the  letter  down  on  his  table  unopened  and 
turned  to  mammy: 

"Take  him  to  your  room.  I'm  trying  to  do  some 
writing." 

The  old  woman  took  the  child's  hand  grumbling: 

"Come  on,  mammy's  darlin',  nobody  wants  us!" 

He  closed  the  door,  locked  it,  glanced  savagely  at  the 
unopened  letter,  drew  his  chair  before  the  open  fire  and 
gazed  into  the  glowing  coals. 

He  feared  to  break  the  seal — feared  with  a  dull, 
sickening  dread.  He  glanced  at  it  again  as  though 
he  were  looking  at  a  toad  that  had  suddenly  intruded 
into  his  room. 

Six  months  had  passed  without  a  sign,  and  he  had 
ceased  to  wonder  at  the  strange  calm  with  which  she 
received  her  dismissal  and  his  flight  from  the  scene  after 
his  wife's  death.  He  had  begun  to  believe  that  her 
shadow  would  never  again  fall  across  his  life. 

It  had  come  at  last.  He  picked  the  letter  up,  and 
tried  to  guess  its  meaning.  She  was  going  to  make  de 
mands  on  him,  of  course.  He  had  expected  this  months 
ago.  But  why  should  she  be  in  Baltimore  ?  He  thought 
of  a  hundred  foolish  reasons  without  once  the  faintest 
suspicion  of  the  truth  entering  his  mind. 

He  broke  the  seal  and  read  its  contents.  A  look  of 
vague  incredulity  overspread  his  face,  followed  by  a 
sudden  pallor.  The  one  frightful  thing  he  had  dreaded 
and  forgotten  was  true! 

180 


THE   BLOW  FALLS 


He  crushed  the  letter  in  his  powerful  hand  with  a 
savage  groan: 

"God  in  Heaven !" 

He  spread  it  out  again  and  read  and  reread  its  mes- 
,sage,  until  each  word  burned  its  way  into  his  soul : 

"Our  baby  was  born  here  yesterday.  I  was  on  my  way 
to  New  York  to  you,  but  was  taken  sick  on  the  train 
at  Baltimore  and  had  to  stop.  I'm  alone  and  have  no 
money,  but  I'm  proud  and  happy.  I  know  that  you  will 
help  me. 

"CLEO." 

For  hours  he  sat  in  a  stupor  of  pain,  holding  this 
crumpled  letter  in  his  hand,  staring  into  the  fire. 


181 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  CALL  OF  THE  BLOOD 

IT  was  all  clear  now,  the  mystery  of  Cleo's  assurance, 
of  her  happiness,  of  her  acceptance  of  his  going  with 
out  protest. 

She  had  known  the  truth  from  the  first  and  had  reck 
oned  on  his  strength  and  manliness  to  draw  him  to  her 
in  this  hour. 

"I'll  show  her !"  he  said  in  fierce  rebellion.  "I'll  give 
her  the  money  she  needs — yes — but  her  shadow  shall 
never  again  darken  my  life.  I  won't  permit  this  shame 
to  smirch  the  soul  of  my  boy — I'll  die  first !" 

He  moved  to  the  West  side  of  town,  permitted  no 
one  to  learn  his  new  address,  sent  her  money  from  the 
general  postoffice,  and  directed  all  his  mail  to  a  lock 
box  he  had  secured. 

He  destroyed  thus  every  trace  by  which  she  might  dis 
cover  his  residence  if  she  dared  to  venture  into  New  York. 

To  his  surprise  it  was  more  than  three  weeks  before 
he  received  a  reply  from  her.  And  the  second  letter 
made  an  appeal  well-nigh  resistless.  The  message  was 
brief,  but  she  had  instinctively  chosen  the  words  that 
found  him.  How  well  she  knew  that  side  of  his  nature ! 
He  resented  it  with  rage  and  tried  to  read  all  sorts  of 
sinister  guile  into  the  lines.  But  as  he  scanned  them  a 
second  time  reason  rejected  all  save  the  simplest  and 
most  obvious  meaning  the  words  implied. 

182 


THE   CALL   OF   THE  BLOOD 

The  letter  was  evidently  written  in  a  cramped  posi 
tion.  She  had  missed  the  lines  many  times  and  some 
words  were  so  scrawled  they  were  scarcely  legible.  But 
he  read  them  all  at  last: 


"I  have  been  very  sick  since  your  letter  came  with  the 
money.  I  tried  to  get  up  too  soon.  I  have  suffered 
awfully.  You  see,  I  didn't  know  how  much  I  had  gone 
through.  Please  don't  be  angry  with  me  for  what  neither 
you  nor  I  can  help  now.  I  want  to  see  you  just  once, 
and  then  I  won't  trouble  you  any  more.  I  am  very  weak 
to-day,  but  I'll  soon  be  strong  again. 

"CLEO." 


It  made  him  furious,  this  subtle  appeal  to  his  keen 
sense  of  fatherhood.  She  knew  how  tenderly  he  loved 
his  boy.  She  knew  that  while  such  obligations  rest 
lightly  on  some  men,  the  tie  that  bound  him  to  his  son 
was  the  biggest  thing  in  his  life.  She  had  been  near  him 
long  enough  to  learn  the  secret  things  of  his  inner  life. 
She  was  using  them  now  to  break  down  the  barriers  of 
character  and  self-respect.  He  could  see  it  plainly.  He 
hated  her  for  it  and  yet  the  appeal  went  straight  to 
his  heart. 

Two  things  in  this  letter  he  couldn't  get  away  from: 
"You    see,    I    didn't    know    how    much    I   had    gone 
through." 

He  kept  reading  this  over.     And  the  next  line : 
"Please  don't  be  angry  with  me  for  what  neither  you 
nor  I  can  help  now." 

The  appeal  was  so  human,  so  simple,  so  obviously 
sincere,  no  man  with  a  soul  could  ignore  it.  How  could 
she  help  it  now  ?  She  too  had  been  swept  into  the  tragic 
situation  by  the  blind  forces  of  Nature.  After  all,  had 

183 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

it  not  been  inevitable?  Did  not  such  a  position  of  daily 
intimate  physical  contact — morning,  noon  and  night — 
mean  just  this?  Could  she  have  helped  it?  Were  they 
not  both  the  victims,  in  a  sense,  of  the  follies  of  cen 
turies  ?  Had  he  the  right  to  be  angry  with  her  ? 

His  reason  answered,  no.  And  again  came  the  deeper 
question — can  any  man  ever  escape  the  consequences  of 
his  deeds  ?  Deeds  are  of  the  infinite  and  eternal  and  the 
smallest  one  disturbs  the  universe.  It  slowly  began  to 
dawn  on  him  that  nothing  he  could  ever  do  or  say  could 
change  one  elemental  fact.  She  was  a  mother — a  fact 
bigger  than  all  the  forms  and  ceremonies  of  the  ages. 
It  was  just  this  thing  in  his  history  that  made  his  sin 
against  the  wife  so  poignant,  both  to  her  and  to  his  im 
agination.  A  child  was  a  child,  and  he  had  no  right  to 
sneak  and  play  a  coward  in  such  an  hour. 

Step  by  step  the  woman's  simple  cry  forced  its  way 
into  the  soul  and  slowly  but  surely  the  rags  were 
stripped  from  pride,  until  he  began  to  see  himself  naked 
and  without  sham. 

The  one  thing  that  finally  cut  deepest  was  the  single 
sentence:  "You  see,  I  didn't  know  how  much  I  had 
gone  through " 

He  read  it  again  with  a  feeling  of  awe.  No  matter 
what  the  shade  of  her  olive  cheek  or  the  length  of  her 
curly  hair,  she  was  a  mother  with  all  that  big  word 
means  in  the  language  of  men.  Say  what  he  might — of 
her  art  in  leading  him  on,  of  her  final  offering  herself 
in  a  hundred  subtle  ways  in  their  daily  life  in  his  home — 
he  was  still  responsible.  He  had  accepted  the  challenge 
at  last. 

And  he  knew  what  it  meant  to  any  woman  under  the 
best  conditions,  with  a  mother's  face  hovering  near  and 

184 


THE    CALL    OF   THE   BLOOD 

the  man  she  loved  by  her  side.     He  saw  again  the  scene 
of  his  boy's  birth.     And  then  another  picture — a  lonely 
girl  in  a  strange  city  without  a  friend — a  cot  in  the 
whitewashed    ward    of    a    city's    hospital — a    pair    of 
startled  eyes  looking  in  vain  for  a  loved,  familiar  face  | 
as  her  trembling  feet  stepped  falteringly  down  into  the  / 
valley  that  lies  between  Life  and  Death ! 

A  pitiful  thing,  this  hour  of  suffering  and  of  waiting 
for  the  unknown. 

His  heart  went  out  to  her  in  sympathy,  and  he  an 
swered  her  letter  with  a  promise  to  come.  But  on  the 
day  he  was  to  start  for  Baltimore  mammy  was  stricken 
with  a  cold  which  developed  into  pneumonia.  Unaccus 
tomed  to  the  rigors  of  a  Northern  climate,  she  had  been 
careless  and  the  result  from  the  first  was  doubtful.  To 
leave  her  was,  of  course,  impossible. 

He  sent  for  a  doctor  and  two  nurses  and  no  care  or 
expense  was  spared,  but  in  spite  of  every  effort  she 
died.  It  was  four  weeks  before  he  returned  from  the 
funeral  in  the  South. 

He  reached  Baltimore  in  a  blinding  snowstorm  the 
week  preceding  Christmas.     Cleo  had  left  the  hospital^ 
three  weeks  previous  to  his  arrival,  and  for  some  un 
explained  reason  had  spent  a  week  or  ten  days  in  Nor-  * 
folk  and  returned  in  time  to  meet  him. 

He  failed  to  find  her  at  the  address  she  had  given 
him,  but  was  directed  to  an  obscure  hotel  in  another 
quarter  of  the  city. 

He  was  surprised  and  puzzled  at  the  attitude  assumed 
at  this  meeting.  She  was  nervous,  irritable,  insolent  and 
apparently  anxious  for  a  fight. 

"Well,  why  do  you  stare  at  me  like  that?"  she  asked 
angrily. 

185 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

"Was  I  staring?"  he  said  with  an  effort  at  self-con 
trol. 

"After  all  I've  been  through  the  past  weeks,"  she  said 
bitterly,  "I  didn't  care  whether  I  lived  or  died." 

"I  meant  to  have  come  at  once  as  I  wrote  you.  But 
mammy's  illness  and  death  made  it  impossible  to  get 
here  sooner." 

"One  excuse  is  as  good  as  another,"  she  retorted 
with  a  contemptuous  toss  of  her  head. 

Norton  looked  at  her  in  blank  amazement.  It  was 
inconceivable  that  this  was  the  same  woman  who  wrote 
him  the  simple,  sincere  appeal  a  few  weeks  ago.  It  was 
possible,  of  course,  that  suffering  had  embittered  her 
mind  and  reduced  her  temporarily  to  the  nervous  con 
dition  in  which  she  appeared. 

"Why  do  you  keep  staring  at  me?"  she  asked  again, 
with  insolent  ill-temper. 

He  was  so  enraged  at  her  evident  attempt  to  bully 
him  into  an  attitude  of  abject  sympathy,  he  shot  her 
a  look  of  rage,  seized  his  hat  and  without  a  word  started 
for  the  door. 

With  a  cry  of  despair  she  was  by  his  side  and  grasped 
his  arm: 

"Please — please  don't !" 

"Change  your  tactics,  then,  if  you  have  anything  to 
say  to  me." 

She  flushed,  stammered,  looked  at  him  queerly  and 
then  smiled: 

"Yes,  I  will,  major — please  don't  be  mad  at  me! 
You  see,  I'm  just  a  little  crazy.  I've  been  through  so 
much  since  I  came  here  I  didn't  know  what  I  was  say 
ing  to  you.  I'm  awfully  sorry — let  me  take  your 

hat " 

186 


THE   CALL   OF   THE   BLOOD 

She  took  his  hat,  laid  it  on  the  table  and  led  him  to 
a  seat. 

"Please  sit  down.  I'm  so  glad  you've  come,  and  I 
thank  you  for  coming.  I'm  just  as  humble  and  grate 
ful  as  I  can  be.  You  must  forget  how  foolish  I've  acted. 
I've  been  so  miserable  and  scared  and  lonely,  it's  a  won 
der  I  haven't  jumped  into  the  bay.  And  I  just  thought 
at  last  that  you  were  never  coming." 

Norton  looked  at  her  with  new  astonishment.  Not 
because  there  was  anything  strange  in  what  she  said — 
he  had  expected  some  such  words  on  his  arrival,  but 
because  they  didn't  ring  true.  She  seemed  to  be  lying. 
There  was  an  expression  of  furtive  cunning  in  her  green 
ish  eyes  that  was  uncanny.  He  couldn't  make  her  out. 
In  spite  of  the  effort  to  be  friendly  she  was  re 
pulsive. 

"Well,  I'm  here,"  he  said  calmly.  "You  have  some 
thing  to  say — what  is  it?" 

"Of  course,"  she  answered  smilingly.  "I  have  a  lot 
to  say.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  what  to  do." 

"Anything  you  like,"  he  answered  bluntly. 

"It's  nothing  to  you?" 

"I'll  give  you  an  allowance." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"What  else  do  you  expect?" 

"You  don't  want  to  see  her?" 

"No." 

"I  thought  you  were  coming  for  that?" 

"I've  changed  my  mind.  And  the  less  we  see  of  each 
ether  the  better.  I'll  go  with  you  to-morrow  and  verify 
the  records " 

Cleo  laughed : 

"You  don't  think  I'm  joking  about  her  birth?" 
187 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"No.     But  I'm  not  going  to  take  your  word  for  it." 

"All  right,  I'll  go  with  you  to-morrow." 

He  started  again  to  the  door.  He  felt  that  he  must 
leave — that  he  was  smothering.  Something  about  the 
girl's  manner  got  on  his  nerves.  Not  only  was  there  no 
sort  of  sympathy  or  attraction  between  them  but  the 
longer  he  stayed  in  her  presence  the  more  he  felt  the 
desire  to  choke  her.  He  began  to  look  into  her  eyes 
with  growing  suspicion  and  hate,  and  behind  their  smil 
ing  plausibility  he  felt  the  power  of  a  secret  deadly  hos 
tility. 

"You  don't  want  me  to  go  back  home  with  the  child, 
do  you?"  Cleo  asked  with  a  furtive  glance. 

"No,  I  do  not,"  he  replied,  emphatically. 

"I'm  going  back — but  I'll  give  her  up  and  let  you 
educate  her  in  a  convent  on  one  condition — 

"What?"  he  asked  sharply. 

"That  you  let  me  nurse  the  boy  again  and  give  me 
the  protection  and  shelter  of  your  home 

"Never!"  he  cried. 

"Please  be  reasonable.  It  will  be  best  for  you  and 
best  for  me  and  best  for  her  that  her  life  shall  never 
be  blackened  by  the  stain  of  my  blood.  I've  thought  it 
all  out.  It's  the  only  way— " 

"No,"  he  replied  sternly.  "I'll  educate  her  in  my 
own  way,  if  placed  in  my  hands  without  condition.  But 
you  shall  never  enter  my  house  again— 

"Is  it  fair,"  she  pleaded,  "to  take  everything  from 
me  and  turn  me  out  in  the  world  alone?  I'll  give  your 
boy  all  the  love  of  a  hungry  heart.  He  loves  me." 

"He  has  forgotten  your  existence " 

"You  know  that  he  hasn't!" 

"I  know  that  he  has,"  Norton  persisted  with  rising 
188 


THE   CALL   OF   THE   BLOOD 

wrath.  "It's  a  waste  of  breath  for  you  to  talk  to  me 
about  this  thing" — he  turned  on  her  fiercely: 

"Why  do  you  wish  to  go  back  there?  To  grin  and 
hint  the  truth  to  your  friends?" 

"You  know  that  I'd  cut  my  tongue  out  sooner  than 
betray  you.  I'd  like  to  scream  it  from  every  housetop — 
yes.  But  I  won't.  I  won't,  because  you  smile  or  frown 
means  too  much  to  me.  I'm  asking  this  that  I  may  live 
and  work  for  you  and  be  your  slave  without  money  and 
without  price " 

"I  understand,"  he  broke  in  bitterly,  "because  you 
think  that  thus  you  can  again  drag  me  down — well,  you 
can't  do  it!  The  power  you  once  had  is  gone — gone 
forever — never  to  return " 

"Then  why  be  afraid?  No  one  there  knows  except 
my  mother.  You  hate  me.  All  right.  I  can  do  you 
no  harm.  I'll  never  hate  you.  I'll  just  be  happy  to 
serve  you,  to  love  your  boy  and  help  you  rear  him  to  be 
a  fine  man.  Let  me  go  back  with  you  and  open  the  old 
house  again " 

He  lifted  his  hand  with  a  gesture  of  angry  impa 
tience  : 

"Enough  of  this  now — you  go  your  way  in  life  and 
I  go  mine." 

"I'll  not  give  her  up  except  on  my  conditions " 

"Then  you  can  keep  her  and  go  where  you  please.  If 
you  return  home  you'll  not  find  me.  I'll  put  the  ocean 
between  us  if  necessary " 

He  stepped  quickly  to  the  door  and  she  knew  it  was 
needless  to  argue  further. 

"Come  to  my  hotel  to-morrow  morning  at  ten 
o'clock  and  I'll  make  you  a  settlement  through  a 
lawyer." 

189 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"I'll  be  there,"  she  answered  in  a  low  tone,  "but 
please,  major,  before  you  go  let  me  ask  you  not  to  re 
member  the  foolish  things  I  said  and  the  way  I  acted 
when  you  came.  I'm  so  sorry — forgive  me.  I  made 
you  terribly  mad.  I  don't  know  what  was  the  matter 
with  me.  Remember  I'm  just  a  foolish  girl  here  with 
out  a  friend " 

She  stopped,  her  voice  failing: 

"Oh,  my  God,  I'm  so  lonely,  I  don't  want  to  live! 
You  don't  know  what  it  means  for  me  just  to  be  near 
you — please  let  me  go  home  with  you !" 

There  was  something  genuine  in  this  last  cry.  It 
reached  his  heart  in  spite  of  anger.  He  hesitated  and 
spoke  in  kindly  tones: 

"Good  night — I'll  see  you  in  the  morning." 

This  plea  of  loneliness  and  homesickness  found  the 
weak  spot  in  his  armor.  It  was  so  clearly  the  echo  of 
his  own  feelings.  The  old  home,  with  its  beautiful  and 
sad  memories,  his  people  and  his  work  had  begun  to 
pull  resistlessly.  Her  suggestion  was  a  subtle  and  dan 
gerous  one,  doubly  seductive  because  it  was  so  safe  a 
solution  of  difficulties.  There  was  not  the  shadow  of  a 
doubt  that  her  deeper  purpose  was  to  ultimately  domi 
nate  his  personal  life.  He  was  sure  of  his  strength,  yet 
he  knew  that  the  wise  thing  to  do  was  to  refuse  to 
listen. 

At  ten  o'clock  next  morning  she  came.  He  had  called 
a  lawyer  and  drawn  up  a  settlement  that  only  waited 
her  signature. 

She  had  not  said  she  would  sign — she  had  not  posi 
tively  refused.  She  was  looking  at  him  with  dumb 
pleading  eyes. 

Without  a  moment's  warning  the  boy  pushed  his  way 
190 


He  had  heard  the  call  of  his  people." 


THE   CALL   OF   THE   BLOOD 

into  the  room.  Norton  sprang  before  Cleo  and  shouted 
angrily  to  the  nurse : 

"I  told  you  not  to  let  him  come  into  this  room " 

"But  you  see  I  des  turn !"  the  boy  answered  with  a 
laugh  as  he  darted  to  the  corner. 

The  thing  he  dreaded  had  happened.  In  a  moment 
the  child  saw  Cleo.  There  was  just  an  instant's  hesita 
tion  and  the  father  smiled  that  he  had  forgotten  her. 
But  the  hesitation  was  only  the  moment  of  dazed  sur 
prise.  With  a  scream  of  joy  he  crossed  the  room  and 
sprang  into  her  arms : 

"Oh,  Cleo — Cleo — my  Cleo  !  You've  turn — you've 
turn !  Look,  Daddy !  She's  turn — my  Cleo  !" 

He  hugged  her,  he  kissed  her,  he  patted  her  flushed 
cheeks,  he  ran  his  little  fingers  through  her  tangled 
hair,  drew  himself  up  and  kissed  her  again. 

She  snatched  him  to  her  heart  and  burst  into  un 
controllable  sobs,  raised  her  eyes  streaming  with  tears 
to  Norton  and  said  softly : 

"Let  me  go  home  with  you !" 

He  looked  at  her,  hesitated  and  then  slowly  tore  the 
legal  document  to  pieces,  threw  it  in  the  fire  and  nodded 
his  consent. 

But  this  time  his  act  was  not  surrender.  He  had 
heard  the  call  of  his  people  and  his  country.  It  was 
the  first  step  toward  the  execution  of  a  new  life  purpose 
that  had  suddenly  flamed  in  the  depths  of  his  darkened 
soul  as  he  watched  the  picture  of  the  olive  cheek  of  the 
woman  against  the  clear  white  of  his  child's. 


191 


TSook  Ctoo— atonement 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  NEW  LIFE  PURPOSE 

NORTON  had  been  compelled  to  wait  twenty  years  for 
the  hour  when  he  could  strike  the  first  decisive  blow  in 
the  execution  of  his  new  life  purpose. 

But  the  aim  he  had  set  was  so  high,  so  utterly  un 
selfish,  so  visionary,  so  impossible  by  the  standards  of 
modern  materialism,  he  felt  the  thrill  of  the  religious 
fanatic  as  he  daily  girded  himself  to  his  task. 

He  was  far  from  being  a  religious  enthusiast,  al 
though  he  had  grown  a  religion  of  his  own,  inherited  in 
part,  dreamed  in  part  from  the  depth  of  his  own  heart. 
The  first  article  of  this  faith  was  a  firm  belief  in  the 
ever-brooding  Divine  Spirit  and  its  guidance  in  the  work 
of  man  if  he  but  opened  his  mind  to  its  illumination. 

He  believed,  as  in  his  own  existence,  that  God's  Spirit 
had  revealed  the  vision  he  saw  in  the  hour  of  his 
agony,  twenty  years  before  when  he  had  watched  his 
boy's  tiny  arms  encircle  the  neck  of  Cleo,  the  tawny 
young  animal  who  had  wrecked  his  life,  but  won  the 
heart  of  his  child.  He  had  tried  to  desert  his  people 
of  the  South  and  awaked  with  a  shock.  His  mind  in 
prophetic  gaze  had  leaped  the  years  and  seen  the  grad 
ual  wearing  down  of  every  barrier  between  the  white  and 
black  races  by  the  sheer  force  of  daily  contact  under 
the  new  conditions  which  Democracy  had  made  inevi 
table. 

195 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

Even  under  the  iron  laws  of  slavery  it  was  impossible 
for  an  inferior  and  superior  race  to  live  side  by  side 
for  centuries  as  master  and  slave  without  the  breaking 
down  of  some  of  these  barriers.  But  the  moment  the 
magic  principle  of  equality  in  a  Democracy  became  the 
law  of  life  they  must  all  melt  or  Democracy  itself  yield 
and  die.  He  had  squarely  faced  this  big  question  and 
given  his  life  to  its  solution. 

When  he  returned  to  his  old  home  and  installed  Cleo 
as  his  housekeeper  and  nurse  she  was  the  living  incarna 
tion  before  his  eyes  daily  of  the  problem  to  be  solved — 
the  incarnation  of  its  subtleties  and  its  dangers.  He 
studied  her  with  the  cold  intellectual  passion  of  a  scien 
tist.  Nor  was  there  ever  a  moment's  uncertainty  or 
halting  in  the  grim  purpose  that  fired  his  soul. 

She  had  at  first  accepted  his  matter  of  fact  treatment, 
as  the  sign  of  ultimate  surrender.  And  yet  as  the  years 
passed  she  saw  with  increasing  wonder  and  rage  the 
gulf  between  them  deepen  and  darken.  She  tried  every 
art  her  mind  could  conceive  and  her  effective  body  sym 
bolize  in  vain.  His  eyes  looked  at  her,  but  never  saw 
the  woman.  They  only  saw  the  thing  he  hated — the 
mongrel  breed  of  a  degraded  nation. 

He  had  begun  his  work  at  the  beginning.  He  had 
tried  to  do  the  things  that  were  possible.  The  minds 
®f  the  people  were  not  yet  ready  to  accept  the  idea 
of  a  complete  separation  of  the  races.  He  planned  for 
the  slow  process  of  an  epic  movement.  His  paper,  in 
season  and  out  of  season,  presented  the  daily  life  of  the 
black  and  white  races  in  such  a  way  that  the  dullest 
miiad  must  be  struck  by  the  fact  that  their  relations 
presented  an  insoluble  problem.  Every  road  of  escape 
fed  at  last  through  a  blind  alley  against  a  blank  wall. 

196 


THE   NEW   LIFE   PURPOSE 

In  this  policy  he  antagonized  no  one,  but  expressed 
always  the  doubts  and  fears  that  lurked  in  the  minds  of 
thoughtful  men  and  women.  His  paper  had  steadily 
grown  in  circulation  and  in  solid  power.  He  meant  to 
use  this  power  at  the  right  moment.  He  had  waited 
patiently  and  the  hour  at  last  had  struck. 

The  thunder  of  a  torpedo  under  an  American  war 
ship  lying  in  Havana  harbor  shook  the  Nation  and 
changed  the  alignment  of  political  parties. 

The  war  with  Spain  lasted  but  a  few  months,  but  it 
gave  the  South  her  chance.  Her  sons  leaped  to  the 
front  and  proved  their  loyalty  to  the  flag.  The 
"Bloody  Shirt"  could  never  again  be  waved.  The  negro 
ceased  to  be  a  ward  of  the  Nation  and  the  Union  of 
States  our  fathers  dreamed  was  at  last  an  accomplished 
fact.  There  could  never  again  be  a  "North"  or  a 
"South." 

Norton's  first  brilliant  editorial  reviewing  the  results 
of  this  war  drew  the  fire  of  his  enemies  from  exactly 
the  quarter  he  expected. 

A  little  college  professor,  who  aspired  to  the  leader 
ship  of  Southern  thought  under  Northern  patronage, 
called  at  his  office. 

The  editor's  lips  curled  with  contempt  a?  he  read 
the  engraved  card: 

"Professor  Alexander  Magraw" 

The  man  had  long  been  one  of  his  pet  aversions. 
He  occupied  a  chair  in  one  of  the  state's  leading  col 
leges,  and  his  effusions  advocating  peace  at  any  price 
on  the  negro  problem  had  grown  so  disgusting  of  late 
the  Eagle  and  Phoenix  had  refused  to  print  them. 

Magraw  was  nothing  daunted.     He  devoted  his  ener- 

197 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

gies  to  writing  a  book  in  fulsome  eulogy  of  a  notorious 
negro  which  had  made  him  famous  in  the  North.  He 
wrote  it  to  curry  favor  with  the  millionaires  who  were 
backing  this  African's  work  and  succeeded  in  winning 
their  boundless  admiration.  They  hailed  him  the  com 
ing  leader  of  "advanced  thought."  As  a  Southern  white 
man  the  little  professor  had  boldly  declared  that  this 
negro,  who  had  never  done  anything  except  to  demon 
strate  his  skill  as  a  beggar  in  raising  a  million  dollars 
from  Northern  sentimentalists,  was  the  greatest  hu 
man  being  ever  born  in  America! 

Outraged  public  opinion  in  the  South  had  demanded 
his  expulsion  from  the  college  for  this  idiotic  effusion, 
but  he  was  so  entrenched  behind  the  power  of  money 
he  could  not  be  disturbed.  His  loud  protests  for  free 
speech  following  his  acquittal  had  greatly  increased  the 
number  of  his  henchmen. 

Norton  wondered  at  the  meaning  of  his  visit.  It 
could  only  be  a  sinister  one.  In  view  of  his  many  con 
temptuous  references  to  the  man,  he  was  amazed  at 
his  audacity  in  venturing  to  invade  his  office. 

He  scowled  a  long  while  at  the  card  and  finally  said 
to  the  boy : 

"Show  him  in." 


198 


CHAPTER  II 

A  MODERN   SCALAWAG 

As  the  professor  entered  the  office  Norton  was  sur 
prised  at  his  height  and  weight.  He  had  never  met  him 
personally,  but  had  unconsciously  formed  the  idea  that 
he  was  a  scrub  physically. 

He  saw  a  man  above  the  average  height,  weighing 
nearly  two  hundred,  with  cheeks  flabby  but  inclined  to 
fat.  It  was  not  until  he  spoke  that  he  caught  the  un 
mistakable  note  of  effeminacy  in  his  voice  and  saw  it 
clearly  reflected  in  his  features. 

He  was  dressed  with  immaculate  neatness  and  wore 
a  tie  of  an  extraordinary  shade  of  lavender  which 
matched  the  silk  hose  that  showed  above  his  stylish  low- 
cut  shoes. 

"Major  Norton,  I  believe?"  he  said  with  a  smile. 

The  editor  bowed  without  rising: 

"At  your  service,  Professor  Magraw.  Have  a  seat, 
sir." 

"Thank  you !  Thank  you !"  the  dainty  voice  mur 
mured  with  so  marked  a  resemblance  to  a  woman's  tones 
that  Norton  was  torn  between  two  impulses — one  to 
lift  his  eyebrows  and  sigh,  "Oh,  splash !"  and  the  other 
to  kick  him  down  the  stairs.  He  was  in  no  mood  for 
the  amenities  of  polite  conversation,  turned  and  asked 
bluntly : 

"May  I  inquire,  professor,  why  you  have  honored 
199 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

me  with  this  unexpected  call — I  confess  I  am  very 
curious  ?" 

"No  doubt,  no  doubt,"  he  replied  glibly.  "You  have 
certainly  not  minced  matters  in  your  personal  refer 
ences  to  me  in  the  paper  of  late,  Major  Norton,  but 
I  have  simply  taken  it  good-naturedly  as  a  part  of  your 
day's  work.  Apparently  we  represent  two  irreconcilable 
ideals  of  Southern  society " 

"There  can  be  no  doubt  about  that,"  Norton  inter 
rupted  grimly. 

"Yet  I  have  dared  to  hope  that  our  differences  are 
only  apparent  and  that  we  might  come  to  a  better  un 
derstanding." 

He  paused,  simpered  and  smiled. 

"About  what?"  the  editor  asked  with  a  frown. 

"About  the  best  policy  for  the  leaders  of  public 
opinion  to  pursue  to  more  rapidly  advance  the  inter 
ests  of  the  South " 

"And  by  'interests  of  the  South'  you  mean  ?" 

"The  best  interest  of  all  the  people  without  regard 
*to  race  or  color!" 

Norton  smiled: 

"You  forgot  part  of  the  pass-word  of  your  order, 
professor!  The  whole  clause  used  to  read,  'race,  color 
or  previous  condition  of  servitude' " 

The  sneer  was  lost  on  the  professor.  He  was  too 
intent  on  his  mission. 

"I  have  called,  Major  Norton,"  he  went  on  glibly, 
"to  inform  you  that  my  distinguished  associates  in  the 
great  Educational  Movement  in  the  South  view  with 
increasing  alarm  the  tendency  of  your  paper  to  con 
tinue  the  agitation  of  the  so-called  negro  problem." 

"And  may  I  ask  by  whose  authority  your  distin- 
200 


A    MODERN  SCALAWAG 

guished  associates  have  been  set  up  as  the  arbiters  of 
the  destiny  of  twenty  millions  of  white  citizens  of  the 
South?" 

The  professor  flushed  with  amazement  at  the  audac 
ity  of  such  a  question : 

"They  have  given  millions  to  the  cause  of  education, 
sir !  These  great  Funds  represent  to-day  a  power  that 
is  becoming  more  and  more  resistless " 

Norton  sprang  to  his  feet  and  faced  Magraw  with 
eyes  flashing: 

"That's  why  I  haven't  minced  matters  in  my  refer 
ences  to  you,  professor.  That's  why  I'm  getting  ready 
to  strike  a  blow  in  the  cause  of  racial  purity  for  which 
my  paper  stands." 

"But  why  continue  to  rouse  the  bitterness  of  racial 
feeling?  The  question  will  settle  itself  if  let  alone." 

"How?" 

"By  the  process  of  evolution " 

"Exactly!"  Norton  thundered.  "And  by  that  you 
mean  the  gradual  breaking  down  of  racial  barriers  and 
the  degradation  of  our  people  to  a  mongrel  negroid 
level  or  you  mean  nothing !  No  miracle  of  evolution  can 
gloss  over  the  meaning  of  such  a  tragedy.  The  Negro 
is  the  lowest  of  all  human  forms,  four  thousand  years 
below  the  standard  of  the  pioneer  white  Aryan  who  dis 
covered  this  continent  and  peopled  it  with  a  race  of  em 
pire  builders.  The  gradual  mixture  of  our  blood  with 
his  can  only  result  in  the  extinction  of  National  char 
acter — a  calamity  so  appalling  the  mind  of  every  pa 
triot  refuses  to  accept  for  a  moment  its  possibility." 

"I  am  not  advocating  such  a  mixture !"  the  professor 
mildly  protested. 

"In  so  many  words,  no,"  retorted  Norton ;  "yet  you 
201 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

are  setting  in  motion  forces  that  make  it  inevitable,  as 
certain  as  life,  as  remorseless  as  death.  When  you 
demand  that  the  patriot  of  the  South  let  the  Negro 
alone  to  work  out  his  own  destiny,  you  know  that  the 
mere  physical  contact  of  two  such  races  is  a  constant 
menace  to  white  civilization " 

The  professor  raised  the  delicate,  tapering  hands: 

"The  old  nightmare  of  negro  domination  is  only  a 
thing  with  which  to  frighten  children,  major,  the  danger 
is  a  myth " 

"Indeed!"  Norton  sneered.  "When  our  people  saw 
the  menace  of  an  emancipated  slave  suddenly  clothed 
with  the  royal  power  of  a  ballot  they  met  this  threat 
against  the  foundations  of  law  and  order  by  a  counter 
revolution  and  restored  a  government  of  the  wealth, 
virtue  and  intelligence  of  the  community.  What  they 
have  not  yet  seen,  is  the  more  insidious  danger  that 
threatens  the  inner  home  life  of  a  Democratic  nation 
from  the  physical  contact  of  two  such  races." 

"And  you  propose  to  prevent  that  contact?"  the 
piping  voice  asked. 

"Yes." 

"And  may  I  ask  how?" 

"By  an  ultimate  complete  separation  through  a  pro 
cess  covering  perhaps  two  hundred  years " 

The  professor  laughed: 

"Visionary — impossible !" 

"All  right,"  Norton  slowly  replied.  "I  see  the  in 
visible  and  set  myself  to  do  the  impossible.  Because 
men  have  done  such  things  the  world  moves  forward 
not  backward !" 

The  lavender  hose  moved  stealthily : 

"You  will  advocate  this?"  the  professor  asked. 


A   MODERN  SCALAWAG 

"In  due  time.  The  Southern  white  man  and  woman 
still  labor  under  the  old  delusion  that  the  negro's  lazy, 
slipshod  ways  are  necessary  and  that  we  could  not  get 
along  without  him " 

"And  if  you  dare  to  antagonize  that  faith?" 

"When  your  work  is  done,  professor,  and  the  glorious 
results  of  Evolution  are  shown  to  mean  the  giving  in 
marriage  of  our  sons  and  daughters,  my  task  will  be 
easy.  In  the  mean  time  I'll  do  the  work  at  hand.  The, 
negro  is  still  a  voter.  The  devices  by  which  he  is  pre 
vented  from  using  the  power  to  which  his  numbers  en 
title  him  are  but  temporary.  The  first  real  work  be 
fore  the  statesmen  of  the  South  is  the  disfranchisement 
of  the  African,  the  repeal  of  the  Fifteenth  Amendment 
to  our  Constitution  and  the  restoration  of  American 
citizenship  to  its  original  dignity  and  meaning." 

"A  large  undertaking,"  the  professor  glibly  ob 
served.  "And  you  will  dare  such  a  program?" 

"I'll  at  least  strike  a  blow  for  it.  The  first  great 
crime  against  the  purity  of  our  racial  stock  was  the 
mixture  of  blood  which  the  physical  contact  of  slavery 
made  inevitable. 

"But  the  second  great  crime,  and  by  far  the  most 
tragic  and  disastrous,  was  the  insane  Act  of  Congress 
inspired  by  the  passions  of  the  Reconstruction  period 
by  which  a  million  ignorant  black  men,  but  yesterday 
from  the  jungles  of  Africa,  were  clothed  with  the  full 
powers  of  citizenship  under  the  flag  of  Democracy  and 
given  the  right  by  the  ballot  to  rule  a  superior  race. 

"The  Act  of  Emancipation  was  a  war  measure  pure 
and  simple.  By  that  act  Lincoln  sought  to  strike  the 
South  as  a  political  power  a  mortal  blow.  He  did  not 
free  four  million  negroes  for  sentimental  reasons.  He 

203 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

destroyed  four  billion  dollars'  worth  of  property  in 
vested  in  slaves  as  an  act  of  war  to  save  the  Union. 
Nothing  was  further  from  his  mind  or  heart  than  the 
mad  idea  that  these.  Africans  could  be  assimilated  into 
our  National  life.  ^  He  intended  to  separate  the  races 
and  give  the  Negro  a  nation  of  his  own.  '  But  the  hand 
of  a  madman  struck  the  great  leader  down  in  the  hour 
of  his  supreme  usefulness.  < 

"In  the  anarchy  which  followed  the  assassination  of 
the  President  and  the  attempt  of  a  daring  coterre  of 
fanatics  in  Washington  to  impeach  his  successor  and 
create  a  dictatorship,  the  great  crime  against  Democ 
racy  was  committed.  Millions  of  black  men,  with  the 
intelligence  of  children  and  the  instincts  of  savages, 
were  given  full  and  equal  citizenship  with  the  breed  of 
men  who  created  the  Republic. 

"Any  plan  to  solve  intelligently  the  problem  of  the 
races  must  first  correct  this  blunder  from  which  a 
stream  of  poison  has  been  pouring  into  our  life. 

"The  first  step  in  the  work  of  separating  the  races, 
therefore,  must  be  to  deprive  the  negro  of  this  enor 
mous  power  over  Democratic  society.  It  is  not  a  solu 
tion  of  the  problem,  but  as  the  great  blunder  was  the 
giving  of  this  symbol  of  American  kingship,  our  first 
task  is  to  take  it  from  him  and  restore  the  ballot  to 
its  original  sanctity." 

"Your  movement  will  encounter  difficulties,  I  fore 
see  !"  observed  the  professor  with  a  gracious  smile. 

He  was  finding  his  task  with  Norton  easier  than  he 
anticipated.  The  editor's  madness  was  evidently  so 
hopeless  he  had  only  to  deliver  his  ultimatum  and  close 
the  interview. 

"The  difficulties  are  great,"  Norton  went  on  with 
204 


A    MODERN   SCALAWAG 

renewed  emphasis,  "but  less  than  they  have  been  for  the 
past  twenty  years.  Until  yesterday  the  negro  was  the 
ward  of  the  Nation.  Any  movement  by  a  Southern 
state  to  remove  his  menace  was  immediately  met  by  a 
call  to  arms  to  defend  the  Union  by  Northern  dema 
gogues  who  had  never  smelled  powder  when  the  Union 
was  in  danger. 

"A  foolish  preacher  in  Boston  who  enjoys  a  National 
reputation  has  been  in  the  habit  of  rousing  his  hearers 
to  a  round  of  cheers  by  stamping  his  foot,  lifting  hands 
above  his  head  and  yelling: 

"  'The  only  way  to  save  the  Union  now  is  for  North 
ern  mothers  to  rear  more  children  than  Southern 
mothers !' 

"And  the  sad  part  of  it  is  that  thousands  of  other 
wise  sane  people  in  New  England  and  other  sections 
of  the  North  and  West  believed  this  idiotic  statement 
to  be  literally  true.  It  is  no  longer  possible  to  fool 
them  with  such  chaff " 

The  professor  rose  and  shook  out  his  finely  creased 
trousers  until  the  lavender  hose  scarcely  showed: 

"I  am  afraid,  Major  Norton,  that  it  is  useless  for  us 
to  continue  this  discussion.  You  are  quite  determined 
to  maintain  the  policy  of  your  paper  on  this  point?" 

"Quite." 

"I  am  sorry.  The  Eagle  and  Phoenix  is  a  very  pow 
erful  influence  in  this  state.  The  distinguished  asso 
ciates  whom  I  represent  sent  me  in  the  vain  hope  that 
I  might  persuade  you  to  drop  the  agitation  of  this  sub 
ject  and  join  with  us  in  developing  the  material  and 
educational  needs  of  the  Soul 

Norton  laughed  aloud: 

"Really,  professor?" 

205 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

The  visitor  flushed  at  the  marked  sneer  in  his  tones, 
and  fumbled  his  lavender  tie: 

"I  can  only  deliver  to  you  our  ultimatum,  there 
fore " 

"You  are  clothed  with  sovereign  powers,  then?"  the 
editor  asked  sarcastically. 

"If  you  choose  to  designate  them  so — yes.  Unless 
you  agree  to  drop  this  dangerous  and  useless  agitation 
of  the  negro  question  and  give  our  people  a  hearing  in 
the  columns  of  your  paper,  I  am  authorized  to  begin 
at  once  the  publication  of  a  journal  that  will  express 
the  best  sentiment  of  the  South " 

"So?" 

"And  I  have  unlimited  capital  to  back  it." 

Norton's  eyes  flashed  as  he  squared  himself  before 
the  professor: 

"I've  not  a  doubt  of  your  backing.  Start  your  paper 
to-morrow  if  you  like.  You'll  find  that  it  takes  more 
than  money  to  build  a  great  organ  of  public  opinion  in 
the  South.  I've  put  my  immortal  soul  into  this  plant. 
I'll  watch  your  experiment  with  interest." 

"Thank  you !     Thank  you,"  the  thin  voice  piped. 

"And  now  that  we  understand  each  other,"  Norton 
went  on,  "you've  given  me  the  chance  to  say  a  few 
things  to  you  and  your  associates  I've  been  wanting  to 
express  for  a  long  time " 

Norton  paused  and  fixed  his  visitor  with  an  angry 
stare : 

"Not  only  is  the  Negro  gaining  in  numbers,  in  wealth 
and  in  shallow  'culture,'  and  tightening  his  grip  on  the 
soil  as  the  owner  in  fee  simple  of  thousands  of  homes, 
churches,  schools  and  farms,  but  a  Negroid  party  has 
once  more  developed  into  a  powerful  and  sinister  influ- 

206 


A   MODERN   SCALAWAG 

ence  on  the  life  of  this  state !  You  and  your  associates 
are  loud  in  your  claims  to  represent  a  new  South.  In 
reality  you  are  the  direct  descendants  of  the  Recon 
struction  Scalawag  and  Carpetbagger. 

"The  old  Scalawag  was  the  Judas  Iscariot  who  sold 
his  people  for  thirty  pieces  of  silver  which  he  got  by 
licking  the  feet  of  his  conqueror  and  fawning  on  his 
negro  allies.  The  Carpetbagger  was  a  Northern  ad 
venturer  who  came  South  to  prey  on  the  misfortunes 
of  a  ruined  people.  A  new  and  far  more  dangerous 
order  of  Scalawags  has  arisen — the  man  who  boldly 
preaches  the  omnipotence  of  the  dollar  and  weighs  every 
policy  of  state  or  society  by  one  standard  only,  will  it 
pay  in  dollars  and  cents?  And  so  you  frown  on  any 
discussion  of  the  tragic  problem  the  negro's  continued 
pressure  on  Southern  society  involves  because  it  dis 
turbs  business. 

"The  unparalleled  growth  of  wealth  in  the  North  has 
created  our  enormous  Poor  Funds,  organized  by  gen 
erous  well-meaning  men  for  the  purpose  of  education 
in  the  South.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  this  new  educational 
movement  had  its  origin  in  the  same  soil  that  established 
negro  classical  schools  and  attempted  to  turn  the  en 
tire  black  race  into  preachers,  lawyers,  and  doctors 
just  after  the  war.  Your  methods,  however,  are  wiser, 
although  your  policies  are  inspired,  if  not  directed,  by 
the  fertile  brain  of  a  notorious  negro  of  doubtful  moral 
character. 

"The  directors  of  your  Poor  Funds  profess  to  be 
the  only  true  friends  of  the  true  white  man  of  the  South. 
By  a  'true  white  man  of  the  South'  you  mean  a  man 
who  is  willing  to  show  his  breadth  of  vision  by  fraterniz 
ing  occasionally  with  negroes. 

207 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"An  army  of  lickspittles  have  begun  to  hang  on  the 
coat-tails  of  your  dispensers  of  alms.  Their  methods 
are  always  the  same.  They  attempt  to  attract  the  no 
tice  of  the  Northern  distributors  by  denouncing  men 
of  my  type  who  are  earnestly,  fearlessly  and  reverently 
trying  to  face  and  solve  the  darkest  problem  the  cen 
turies  have  presented  to  America.  These  little  beggars 
have  begun  to  vie  with  one  another  not  only  in  denounc 
ing  the  leaders  of  public  opinion  in  the  South,  but  in 
fulsome  and  disgusting  fawning  at  the  feet  of  the  in 
dividual  negro  wrhose  personal  influence  dominates  these 
Funds." 

Again  the  lavender  socks  moved  uneasily. 

"In  which  category  you  place  the  author  of  a  certain 
book,  I  suppose?"  inquired  the  professor. 

"I  paused  in  the  hope  that  you  might  not  miss  my 
meaning,"  Norton  replied,  smiling.  "The  astounding 
power  for  the  debasement  of  public  opinion  developing 
through  these  vast  corruption  funds  is  one  of  the  most 
sinister  influences  which  now  threatens  Southern  so 
ciety.  It  is  the  most  difficult  of  all  to  meet  because  its 
protestations  are  so  plausible  and  philanthropic. 

"The  Carpetbagger  has  come  back  to  the  South. 
This  time  he  is  not  a  low  adventurer  seeking  coin  and 
public  office.  He  is  a  philanthropist  who  carries  hun 
dreds  of  millions  of  dollars  to  be  distributed  to  the 
'right'  men  who  will  teach  Southern  boys  and  girls  the 
'right'  ideas.  So  far  as  these  'right'  ideas  touch  the 
negro,  they  mean  the  ultimate  complete  acceptance  of 
the  black  man  as  a  social  equal. 

"Your  chief  spokesman  of  this  New  Order  of  Carpet 
bag,  for  example,  has  declared  on  many  occasions  that 
the  one  thing  in  his  life  of  which  he  is  most  proud  is 

208 


A    MODERN   SCALAWAG 

the  fact  that  he  is  the  personal  friend  of  the  negro 
whose  influence  now  dominates  your  dispensers  of  alms ! 
This  man  positively  grovels  with  joy  when  his  distin 
guished  black  friend  honors  him  by  becoming  his  guest 
in  New  York. 

"With  growing  rage  and  wonder  I  have  watched  the 
development  of  this  modern  phenomenon.  I  have  fought 
you  with  sullen  and  unyielding  fury  from  the  first,  and 
you  have  proven  the  most  dangerous  and  insidious  force 
I  have  encountered.  You  profess  the  loftiest  motives 
and  the  highest  altruism  while  the  effects  of  your  work 
can  only  be  the  degradation  of  the  white  race  to  an 
ultimate  negroid  level,  to  say  nothing  of  the  appalling 
results  if  you  really  succeed  in  pauperizing  the  educa 
tional  system  of  the  South ! 

"I  expected  to  hear  from  your  crowd  when  the  move 
ment  for  a  white  ballot  was  begun.  Through  you  the 
society  of  Affiliated  Black  League  Almoners  of  the 
South,  under  the  direction  of  your  inspired  negro 
leader,  have  sounded  the  alarm.  And  now  all  the  little 
pigs  who  are  feeding  on  this  swill,  and  all  the  hungry 
ones  yet  outside  the  fence  and  squealing  to  get  in,  will 
unite  in  a  chorus  that  you  hope  can  have  but  one  re 
sult — the  division  of  the  white  race  on  a  vital  issue 
affecting  its  purity,  its  integrity,  and  its  future. 

"The  possible  division  of  my  race  in  its  attitude  to 
ward  the  Negro  is  the  one  big  danger  that  has  always 
hung  its  ugly  menace  over  the  South.  So  long  as  her 
people  stand  united,  our  civilization  can  be  protected 
against  the  pressure  of  the  Negro's  growing  millions. 
But  the  moment  a  serious  division  of  these  forces  occurs  ^^. 


the  black  man's  opportunity  will  be  at  hand.    The  ques- 

i  whi 

209 


tion  is,  can  you  divide  the  white  race  on  this  issue?" 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"We  shall  see,  major,  we  shall  see,"  piped  the  pro 
fessor,  fumbling  his  lavender  tie  and  bowing  himself 
out. 

The  strong  jaw  closed  with  a  snap  as  Norton  watched 
the  silk  hose  disappear. 


210 


CHAPTER  III 

HIS  HOUSE  IN   ORDER 

NORTON  knew  from  the  first  that  there  could  be  no 
hope  of  success  in  such  a  campaign  as  he  had  planned 
except  in  the  single  iron  will  of  a  leader  who  would 
lead  and  whose  voice  lifted  in  impassioned  appeal  direct 
to  the  white  race  in  every  county  of  the  state  could 
rouse  them  to  resistless  enthusiasm. 

The  man  who  undertook  this  work  must  burn  the 
bridges  behind  him,  ask  nothing  for  himself  and  take  his 
life  daily  in  his  hands.  He  knew  the  state  from  the 
sea  to  its  farthest  mountain  peak  and  without  the  slight 
est  vanity  felt  that  God  had  called  him  to  this  task. 
There  was  no  other  man  who  could  do  it,  no  other  man 
fitted  for  it.  He  had  the  training,  bitter  experience, 
and  the  confidence  of  the  people.  And  he  had  no  am 
bitions  save  a  deathless  desire  to  serve  his  country  in 
the  solution  of  its  greatest  and  most  insoluble  prob 
lem.  He  edited  the  most  powerful  organ  of  public 
opinion  in  the  South  and  he  was  an  eloquent  and  force 
ful  speaker.  His  paper  had  earned  a  comfortable 
fortune,  he  was  independent,  he  had  the  training  of  a 
veteran  soldier  and  physical  fear  was  something  he 
had  long  since  ceased  to  know. 

And  his  house  was  in  order  for  the  event.  He  could 
leave  for  months  in  confidence  that  the  work  would  run 
with  the  smoothness  of  a  clock. 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

He  had  sent  Tom  to  a  Northern  university  which 
had  kept  itself  clean  from  the  stain  of  negro  associa 
tions.  The  boy  had  just  graduated  with  honor,  re 
turned  home  and  was  at  work  in  the  office.  He  was 
a  handsome,  clean,  manly,  straight-limbed,  wholesome 
boy,  the  pride  of  his  father's  heart,  and  had  shown  de 
cided  talent  for  newspaper  work. 

Andy  had  long  since  become  his  faithful  henchman, 
butler  and  man  of  all  work.  Aunt  Minerva,  his  fat, 
honest  cook,  was  the  best  servant  he  had  ever  known, 
and  Cleo  kept  his  house. 

The  one  point  of  doubt  was  Cleo.  During  the  past 
year  she  had  given  unmistakable  signs  of  a  determination 
to  fight.  If  she  should  see  fit  to  strike  in  the  midst 
of  this  campaign,  her  blow  would  be  a  crushing  one. 
It  would  not  only  destroy  him  personally,  it  would 
confuse  and  crush  his  party  in  hopeless  defeat.  He 
weighed  this  probability  from  every  point  of  view  and 
the  longer  he  thought  it  over  the  less  likely  it  appeared 
that  she  would  take  such  a  step.  She  would  destroy 
herself  and  her  child  as  well.  She  knew  him  too  well 
now  to  believe  that  he  would  ever  yield  in  such  a  strug 
gle.  Helen  was  just  graduating  from  a  convent  school 
in  the  Northwest,  a  beautiful  and  accomplished  girl, 
and  the  last  thing  on  earth  she  could  suspect  was  that 
a  drop  of  negro  blood  flowed  in  her  veins.  He  knew 
Cleo  too  well,  understood  her  hatred  of  negroes  too 
well,  to  believe  that  she  would  deliberately  push  this 
child  back  into  a  negroid  hell  merely  to  wreak  a  useless 
revenge  that  would  crush  her  own  life  as  well.  She 
was  too  wise,  too  cunning,  too  cautious. 

And  yet  her  steadily  growing  desperation  caused 
him  to  hesitate.  The  thing  he  dreaded  most  was  the 


HIS  HOUSE   IN   ORDER 

loss  of  his  boy's  respect,  which  a  last  desperate  fight 
with  this  woman  would  involve.  The  one  thing  he  had 
taught  Tom  was  racial  cleanness.  With  a  wisdom  in 
spired  and  guided  by  the  brooding  spirit  of  his  mother 
he  had  done  this  thoroughly.  He  had  so  instilled  into 
this  proud,  sensitive  boy's  soul  a  hatred  for  all  low 
association  with  women  that  it  was  inconceivable  to  him 
that  any  decent  white  man  would  stoop  to  an  intrigue 
with  a  woman  of  negro  blood.  'The  withering  scorn, 
the  unmeasured  contempt  with  which  he  had  recently 
expressed  himself  to  his  father  on  this  point  had  made 
the  red  blood  slowly  mount  to  the  older  man's  face. 

He  had  rather  die  than  look  into  this  boy's  clean, 
manly  eyes  and  confess  the  shame  that  would  blacken 
his  life.  The  boy  loved  him  with  a  deep,  tender,  rev 
erent  love.  His  keen  eyes  had  long  ago  seen  the  big 
traits  in  his  father's  character.  The  boy's  genuine  ad 
miration  was  the  sweetest  thing  in  his  lonely  life. 

He  weighed  every  move  with  care  and  deliberately 
made  up  his  mind  to  strike  the  blow  and  take  the 
chances.  No  man  had  the  right  to  weigh  his  personal 
career  against  the  life  of  a  people — certainly  no  man 
who  dared  to  assume  the  leadership  of  a  race.  He  rose 
from  his  desk,  opened  the  door  of  the  reporters'  room 
and  called  Tom. 

The  manly  young  figure,  in  shirt  sleeves,  pad  and 
pencil  in  hand,  entered  with  quick,  firm  step. 

"You  want  me  to  interview  you,  Governor?"  he  said 
with  a  laugh.  "All  right — now  what  do  you  think  of 
that  little  scrimmage  at  the  mouth  of  the  harbor  of 
Santiago  yesterday?  How's  that  for  a  Fourth  of 
July  celebration?  I  ask  it  of  a  veteran  of  the  Con 
federate  army?" 

213 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

The  father  smiled  proudly  as  the  youngster  pre 
tended  to  be  taking  notes  of  his  imaginary  interview. 

"You  heard,  sir,"  he  went  on  eagerly,  "that  your 
old  General,  Joe  Wheeler,  was  there  and  in  a  moment 
of  excitement  forgot  himself  and  shouted  to  his  aid : 

"  'There  go  the  damned  Yankees ! — charge  and  give 
'em  hell!'" 

A  dreamy  look  came  into  the  father's  eyes  as  he  in 
terrupted  : 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  Wheeler  said  it — any 
how,  it's  too  good  a  joke  to  doubt" — he  paused  and 
the  smile  on  his  serious  face  slowly  faded. 

"Shut  the  door,  Tom,"  he  said  with  a  gesture  toward 
the  reporters'  room. 

The  boy  rose,  closed  the  door,  and  sat  down  near 
his  father's  chair: 

"Well,  Dad,  why  so  serious?  Am  I  to  be  fired  with 
out  a  chance?  or  is  it  just  a  cut  in  my  wages?  Don't 
prolong  the  agony !" 

"I  am  going  to  put  you  in  my  chair  in  this  office, 
my  son,"  the  father  said  in  a  slow  drawl.  The  boy 
flushed  scarlet  and  then  turned  pale. 

"You  don't  mean  it — now?"  he  gasped. 

"To-morrow." 

"You  think  I  can  make  good?"  The  question  came 
through  trembling  lips  and  he  was  looking  at  his  father 
through  a  pair  of  dark  blue  eyes  blurred  by  tears  of 
excitement. 

"You'll  do  better  than  I  did  at  your  age.  You're 
better  equipped." 

"You  think  so?"  Tom  asked  in  quick  boyish  eager 
ness. 

"I  know  it." 


HIS  HOUSE   IN   ORDER 

The  boy  sprang  to  his  feet  and  grasped  his  father's 
hand  : 

"Your  faith  in  me  is  glorious — it  makes  me  feel  like 
I  can  do  anything " 

"You  can — if  you  try." 

"Well,  if  I  can,  it's  because  I've  got  good  blood  in 
me.  I  owe  it  all  to  you.  You're  the  biggest  man  I  ever 
met,  Dad.  I've  wanted  to  say  this  to  you  for  a  long 
time,  but  I  never  somehow  got  up  my  courage  to  tell 
you  what  I  thought  of  you." 

The  father  slipped  his  arm  tenderly  about  the  boy 
and  looked  out  the  window  at  the  bright  Southern  sky 
for  a  moment  before  he  slowly  answered: 

"I'd  rather  hear  that  from  you,  Tom,  than  the 
shouts  of  the  rest  of  the  world." 

"I'm  going  to  do  my  level  best  to  prove  myself  worthy 
of  the  big  faith  you've  shown  in  me — but  why  have  you 
done  it?  What  does  it  mean?" 

"Simply  this,  my  boy,  that  the  time  has  come  in  the 
history  of  the  South  for  a  leader  to  strike  the  first 
blow  in  the  battle  for  racial  purity  by  establishing  a 
clean  American  citizenship.  I  am  going  to  disfranchise 
the  Negro  in  this  state  as  the  first  step  toward  the  ulti 
mate  complete  separation  of  the  races." 

The  boy's  eyes  flashed: 

"It's  a  big  undertaking,  sir." 

"Yes." 

"Is  it  possible?" 

"Many  say  not.  That's  why  I'm  going  to  do  it.  The 
real  work  must  come  after  this  first  step.  Just  now 
the  campaign  which  I'm  going  to  inaugurate  to-morrow 
in  a  speech  at  the  mass  meeting  celebrating  our  victory 
at  Santiago,  is  the  thing  in  hand.  This  campaign  will 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

take  me  away  from  home  for  several  months.  I  must 
have  a  man  here  whom  I  can  trust  implicitly." 

"I'll  do  my  best,  sir,"  the  boy  broke  in. 

"In  case  anything  happens  to  me  before  it  ends " 

Tom  bent  close : 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"You  never  can  tell  what  may  happen  in  such  a 
revolution " 

"It  will  be  a  revolution?" 

"Yes.  That's  what  my  enemies  as  yet  do  not  under 
stand.  They  will  not  be  prepared  for  the  weapons  I 
shall  use.  And  I'll  win.  I  may  lose  my  life,  but  I'll 
start  a  fire  that  can't  be  put  out  until  it  has  swept 
the  state — the  South" — he  paused — "and  then  the 
Nation!" 


216 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  MAN  OF  THE  HOUR 

THE  editor  prepared  to  launch  his  campaign  with 
the  utmost  care.  He  invited  the  Executive  Committee 
of  his  party  to  meet  in  his  office.  The  leaders  were  ex 
cited.  They  knew  Norton  too  well  to  doubt  that  he 
had  something  big  to  suggest.  Some  of  them  came 
from  distant  sections  of  the  state,  three  hundred  miles 
away,  to  hear  his  plans. 

He  faced  the  distinguished  group  of  leaders  calmly, 
but  every  man  present  felt  the  deep  undercurrent  of 
excitement  beneath  his  words. 

"With  your  cooperation,  gentlemen,"  he  began,  "we 
are  going  to  sweep  the  state  this  time  by  an  overwhelm 
ing  majority " 

"That's  the  way  to  talk !"  the  Chairman  shouted. 

"Four  years  ago,"  he  went  on,  "we  were  defeated  for 
the  first  time  since  the  overthrow  of  the  negro  govern 
ment  under  the  Reconstruction  regime.  This  defeat 
was  brought  about  by  a  division  of  the  whites  under  the 
Socialistic  program  of  the  Farmers'  Alliance.  Grad 
ually  the  black  man  has  forced  himself  into  power  under 
the  new  regime.  Our  farmers  only  wished  his  votes 
to  accomplish  their  plans  and  have  no  use  for  him  as 
an  officeholder.  The  rank  and  file  of  the  white  wing, 
therefore,  of  the  allied  party  in  power,  are  ripe  for 
revolt  if  the  Negro  is  made  an  issue. 

217 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

The  Committee  cheered. 

"I  propose  to  make  the  Negro  the  only  issue  of  this 
campaign.  There  will  be  no  half-way  measures,  no 
puling  hesitation,  no  weakness,  and  it  will  be  a  fight 
to  the  death  in  the  open.  The  day  for  secret  organiza 
tions  has  gone  in  Southern  history.  There  is  no  Black 
League  to  justify  a  reorganization  of  the  Klan.  But 
the  new  Black  League  has  a  far  more  powerful  organi 
zation.  Its  mask  is  now  philanthropy,  not  patriotism. 
Its  weapon  is  the  lure  of  gold,  not  the  flash  of  Federal 
bayonets.  They  will  fight  to  divide  the  white  race  on  this 
vital  issue. 

"Here  is  our  danger.  It  is  real.  It  is  serious.  But 
we  must  meet  it.  There  is  but  one  way,  and  that 
is  to  conduct  a  campaign  of  such  enthusiasm,  of  such 
daring  and  revolutionary  violence  if  need  be,  that  the 
little  henchmen  and  sycophants  of  the  Dispensers  of 
the  National  Poor  Funds  will  be  awed  into  silence. 

"The  leadership  of  such  a  campaign  will  be  a  dan 
gerous  one.  I  offer  you  my  services  without  conditions. 
I  ask  nothing  for  myself.  I  will  accept  no  honors.  I 
offer  you  my  time,  my  money,  my  paper,  my  life  if 
need  be !" 

The  leaders  rose  as  one  man,  grasped  Norton's  hand, 
and  placed  him  in  command. 

No  inkling  of  even  the  outlines  of  his  radical  pro 
gram  was  allowed  to  leak  out  until  the  hour  of  the  meet 
ing  of  the  party  convention.  The  delegates  were  wait 
ing  anxiously  for  the  voice  of  a  leader  who  would 
sound  the  note  of  victory. 

And  when  the  platform  was  read  to  the  convention 
declaring  in  simple,  bold  words  that  the  time  had  come 
for  the  South  to  undo  the  crime  of  the  Fifteenth  Amend- 

218 


THE  MAN   OF   THE  HOUR 

ment,  disfranchise  the  Negro  and  restore  to  the  Nation 
the  basis  of  white  civilization,  a  sudden  cheer  like  a 
peal  of  thunder  swept  the  crowd,  followed  by  the  roar 
of  a  storm.  It  died  away  at  last  in  waves  of  excited 
comment,  rose  again  and  swelled  and  rose  higher  and 
higher  until  the  old  wooden  building  trembled. 

Again  and  again  such  assemblies  had  declared  in 
vague  terms  for  "White  Supremacy."  Campaign  after 
campaign  which  followed  the  blight  of  negro  rule  twenty 
years  before  had  been  fought  and  won  on  this  issue.  But 
no  man  or  party  had  dared  to  whisper  what  "White 
Supremacy"  really  meant.  There  was  no  fog  about 
this  platform.  For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the 
party  it  said  exactly  what  was  meant  in  so  many  words. 

Thoughtful  men  had  long  been  weary  of  platitudes 
on  this  subject.  The  Negro  had  grown  enormously 
in  wealth,  in  numbers  and  in  social  power  in  the  past 
two  decades.  As  a  full-fledged  citizen  in  a  Democracy 
he  was  a  constant  menace  to  society.  Here,  for  the 
first  time,  was  the  announcement  of  a  definite  program. 
It  was  revolutionary.  It  meant  the  revision  of  the  con 
stitution  of  the  Union  and  a  challenge  to  the  negro 
race,  and  all  his  sentimental  allies  in  the  Republic  for 
a  fight  to  a  finish. 

The  effect  of  its  bare  reading  was  electric.  The 
moment  the  Chairman  tried  to  lift  his  voice  the  cheers 
were  renewed.  The  hearts  of  the  people  had  been  sud 
denly  thrilled  by  a  great  ideal.  No  matter  whether  it 
meant  success  or  failure,  no  matter  whether  it  meant 
fame  or  oblivion  for  the  man  who  proposed  it,  every  in 
telligent  delegate  in  that  hall  knew  instinctively  that  a 
great  mind  had  spoken  a  bold  principle  that  must  win 
in  the  end  if  the  Republic  live. 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

Norton  rose  at  last  to  advocate  its  adoption  as  the 
one  issue  of  the  campaign,  and  again  pandemonium 
broke  loose — now  they  knew  that  he  had  written  it! 
They  suspected  it  from  the  first.  Instantly  his  name 
was  on  a  thousand  lips  in  a  shout  that  rent  the 
air. 

He  stood  with  his  tall  figure  drawn  to  its  full  height, 
his  face  unearthly  pale,  wreathed  in  its  heavy  shock  of 
iron-gray  hair  and  waited,  without  recognizing  the  tu 
mult,  until  the  last  shout  had  died  away. 

His  speech  was  one  of  passionate  and  fierce  appeal 
— the  voice  of  the  revolutionist  who  had  boldly  thrown 
off  the  mask  and  called  his  followers  to  battle. 

Yet  through  it  all,  the  big  unspoken  thing  behind 
his  words  was  the  magic  that  really  swayed  his  hearers. 
They  felt  that  what  he  said  was  great,  but  that  he  could 
say  something  greater  if  he  would.  As  he  had  matured 
in  years  he  had  developed  this  reserved  power.  All 
who  came  in  personal  touch  with  the  man  felt  it  in 
stinctively  with  his  first  word.  An  audience,  with  its 
simpler  collective  intelligence,  felt  it  overwhelmingly. 
Yet  if  he  had  dared  reveal  to  this  crowd  the  ideas  seeth 
ing  in  his  brain  behind  the  simple  but  bold  political 
proposition,  he  could  not  have  carried  them  with  him. 
They  were  not  ready  for  it.  He  knew  that  to  merely 
take  the  ballot  from  the  negro  and  allow  him  to  remain 
in  physical  touch  with  the  white  race  was  no  solution  of 
the  problem.  But  he  was  wise  enough  to  know  that 
but  one  step  could  be  taken  at  a  time  in  a  great  move 
ment  to  separate  millions  of  blacks  from  the  entangle 
ments  of  the  life  of  two  hundred  years. 

His  platform  expressed  what  he  believed  could  be 
accomplished,  and  the  convention  at  the  conclusion  of 

220 


THE   MAN   OF   THE  HOUR 

his  eloquent  speech  adopted  it  by  acclamation  amid 
a  scene  of  wild  enthusiasm. 

He  refused  all  office,  except  the  position  of  Chairman 
of  the  Executive  Committee  without  pay,  and  left  the 
hall  the  complete  master  of  the  politics  of  his  party. 

Little  did  he  dream  in  this  hour  of  triumph  the  grim 
tragedy  the  day's  work  had  prepared  in  his  own  life. 


CHAPTER  V 

A  WOMAN  SCORNED 

As  the  time  drew  near  for  Norton  to  take  the  field  in 
the  campaign  whose  fierce  passions  would  mark  a  new 
era  in  the  state's  history,  his  uneasiness  over  the  atti 
tude  of  Cleo  increased. 

She  had  received  the  announcement  of  his  approach 
ing  long  absence  with  sullen  anger.  And  as  the  pur 
pose  of  the  campaign  gradually  became  clear  she  had 
watched  him  with  growing  suspicion  and  hate.  He  felt 
it  in  every  glance  she  flashed  from  the  depth  of  her 
greenish  eyes. 

Though  she  had  never  said  it  in  so  many  words, 
he  was  sure  that  the  last  hope  of  a  resumption  of  their 
old  relations  was  fast  dying  in  her  heart,  and  that  the 
moment  she  realized  that  he  was  lost  to  her  would  be 
the  signal  for  a  desperate  attack.  What  form  the  at 
tack  would  take  he  could  only  guess.  He  was  sure  it 
would  be  as  deadly  as  her  ingenuity  could  invent.  Yet 
in  the  wildest  flight  of  his  imagination  he  never  dreamed 
the  daring  thing  she  had  really  decided  to  do. 

On  the  night  before  his  departure  he  was  working 
late  in  his  room  at  the  house.  The  office  he  had  placed 
in  Tom's  hands  before  the  meeting  of  the  convention. 
The  boy's  eager  young  face  just  in  front  of  him  when 
he  made  his  speech  that  day  had  been  an  inspiration. 
It  had  beamed  with  pride  and  admiration,  and  when 


A    WOMAN  SCORNED 


his  father's  name  rang  from  every  lip  in  the  great  shout 
that  shook  the  building  Tom's  eyes  had  filled  with  tears. 
Norton  was  seated  at  his  typewriter,  which  he  had 
moved  to  his  room,  writing  his  final  instructions.  The 
last  lines  he  put  in  caps : 

"UNDER  NO  CONCEIVABLE  CIRCUMSTANCES  ANNOY  ME 
WITH  ANYTHING  THAT  HAPPENS  AT  HOME,  UNLESS  A 
MATTER  OF  IMMEDIATE  LIFE  AND  DEATH.  ANYTHING 
ELSE  CAN  WAIT  UNTIL  MY  RETURN." 

He  had  just  finished  this  important  sentence  when 
the  sound  of  a  footstep  behind  his  chair  caused  him  to 
turn  suddenly. 

Cleo  had  entered  the  room  and  stood  glaring  at  him 
with  a  look  of  sullen  defiance. 

By  a  curious  coincidence  or  by  design,  she  was 
dressed  in  a  scarlet  kimono  of  the  same  shade  of  filmy 
Japanese  stuff  as  the  one  she  wore  in  his  young  man 
hood.  His  quick  eye  caught  this  fact  in  a  flash  and 
his  mind  took  rapid  note  of  the  changes  the  years  had 
wrought.  Their  burdens  had  made  slight  impression 
on  her  exhaustless  vitality.  Whatever  might  be  her 
personality  or  her  real  character,  she  was  alive  from 
the  crown  of  her  red  head  to  the  tips  of  her  slippered 
toes. 

Her  attitude  of  tense  silence  sparkled  with  this  vital 
power  more  eloquently  than  when  she  spoke  with  quick 
energy  in  the  deep  voice  that  was  her  most  remarkable 
possession. 

Her  figure  was  heavier  by  twenty  pounds  than  when 
she  had  first  entered  his  home,  but  she  never  produced 
the  impression  of  stoutness.  Her  form  was  too  sinu 
ous,  pliant  and  nervous  to  take  on  flesh.  She  was  no 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

longer  the  graceful  girl  of  eighteen  whose  beauty  had 
drugged  his  senses,  but  she  was  beyond  all  doubt  a 
woman  of  an  extraordinary  type,  luxuriant,  sensuous, 
dominant.  There  was  not  a  wrinkle  on  her  smooth 
creamy  skin  nor  a  trace  of  approaching  age  about  the 
brilliant  greenish  eyes  that  were  gazing  into  his  now 
with  such  grim  determination. 

He  wheeled  from  his  machine  and  faced  her,  his  eyes 
taking  in  with  a  quick  glance  the  evident  care  with 
which  she  had  arranged  her  hair  and  the  startling  man 
ner  in  which  she  was  dressed. 

He  spoke  with  sharp,  incisive  emphasis  : 

"It  was  a  condition  of  your  return  that  you  should 
never  enter  my  room  while  I  am  in  this  house." 

"I  have  not  forgotten,"  she  answered  firmly,  her  eyes 
holding  his  steadily. 

"Why  have  you  dared?" 

"You  are  still  afraid  of  me?"  she  asked  with  a  light 
laugh  that  was  half  a  sneer. 

"Have  I  given  you  any  such  evidence  during  the  past 
twenty  years?" 

There  was  no  bitterness  or  taunt  in  the  even,  slow 
drawl  with  which  he  spoke,  but  the  woman  knew  that 
he  never  used  the  slow  tone  with  which  he  uttered  those 
words  except  he  was  deeply  moved. 

She  flushed,  was  silent  and  then  answered  with  a 
frown  : 

"No,  you  haven't  shown  any  fear  for  something  more 
than  twenty  years  —  until  a  few  days  ago." 

The  last  clause  she  spoke  very  quickly  as  she  took  a 
step  closer  and  paused. 

"A  few  days  ago?"  he  repeated  slowly. 
Yes.    For  the  past  week  you  have  been  afraid  of  me 


" 


A    WOMAN  SCORNED 


— not  in  the  sense  I  asked  you  just  now  perhaps" — 
her  white  teeth  showed  in  two  even  perfect  rows — "but 
you  have  been  watching  me  out  of  the  corners  of  your 
eyes — haven't  you?" 

"Perhaps." 

"I  wonder  why?" 

"And  you  haven't  guessed?" 

"No,  but  I'm  going  to  find  out." 

"You  haven't  asked." 

"I'm  going  to." 

"Be  quick  about  it !" 

"I'm  going  to  find  out — that's  why  I  came  in  here 
to-night  in  defiance  of  your  orders." 

"All  right— the  quicker  the  better!" 

"Thank  you,  I'm  not  in  a  hurry." 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  demanded  with  anger. 

She   smiled  tauntingly: 

"It's  no  use  to  get  mad  about  it!  I'm  here  now, 
you  see  that  I'm  not  afraid  of  you  and  I'm  quite  sure 
that  you  will  not  put  me  out  until  I'm  ready  to 
go—" 

He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  advanced  on  her : 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that !" 

"Well,  I  am,"  she  cried,  holding  his  gaze  steadily. 

He  threw  up  his  hands  with  a  gesture  of  disgust  and 
resumed  his  seat: 

"What  is  it?" 

She  crossed  the  room  deliberately,  carrying  a  chair 
in  front  of  her,  sat  down,  leaned  her  elbow  on  his  table 
and  studied  him  a  moment,  their  eyes  meeting  in  a  gaze 
of  deadly  hostility. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  long  absence  you  have 
planned  ?" 

225 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

"I  have  charge  of  this  campaign.  I  am  going  to 
speak  in  every  county  in  the  state." 

"Why?" 

"Because  I'll  win  that  way,  by  a  direct  appeal  to  the 
people." 

"Why  do  you  want  to  win?" 

"Because  I  generally  do  what  I  undertake." 

"Why  do  you  want  to  do  this  thing?" 

He  looked  at  her  in  amazement.  Her  eyes  had  nar 
rowed  to  the  tiniest  lines  as  she  asked  these  questions 
with  a  steadily  increasing  intensity. 

"What  are  you  up  to?"  he  asked  her  abruptly. 

"I  want  to  know  why  you  began  this  campaign  at 
all?" 

"I  decline  to  discuss  the  question  with  you,"  he  an 
swered  abruptly. 

"I  insist  on  it!" 

"You  wouldn't  know  what  I  was  talking  about,"  he 
replied  with  contempt. 

"I  think  I  would." 

"Bah!" 

He  turned  from  her  with  a  wave  of  angry  dismissal, 
seized  his  papers  and  began  to  read  again  his  instruc 
tions  to  Tom. 

"I'm  not  such  a  fool  as  you  think,"  she  began  men 
acingly.  "I've  read  your  platform  with  some  care  and 
I've  been  thinking  it  over  at  odd  times  since  your 
speech  was  reported." 

"And  you  contemplate  entering  politics?"  he  inter 
rupted  with  a  smile. 

"Who  knows?" 

She  watched  him  keenly  while  she  slowly  uttered  these 
words  and  saw  the  flash  of  uneasiness  cross  his  face, 

226 


A    WOMAN  SCORNED 


"But  don't  worry,"  she  laughed. 

"I'll  not!" 

"You  may  for  all  that!"  she  sneered,  "but  I'll  not 
enter  politics  as  you  fear.  That  would  be  too  cheap. 
I  don't  care  what  you  do  to  negroes.  I've  a  drop  of 
their  blood  in  me " 

"One  in  eight,  to  be  exact." 

"But  I'm  not  one  of  them,  except  by  your  laws,  and 
I  hate  the  sight  of  a  negro.  You  can  herd  them, 
colonize  them,  send  them  back  to  Africa  or  to  the  devil 
for  all  I  care.  Your  program  interests  me  for  another 
reason" — she  paused  and  watched  him  intently. 

"Yes?"  he  said  carelessly. 

"It  interests  me  for  one  reason  only — you  wrote  that 
platform,  you  made  that  speech,  you  carried  that  con 
vention.  Your  man  Friday  is  running  for  Governor. 
You  are  going  to  take  the  stump,  carry  this  election 
and  take  the  ballot  from  the  Negro !" 

"Well?" 

"I'm  excited  about  it  merely  because  it  shows  the 
inside  of  your  mind." 

"Indeed!" 

"Yes.  It  shows  either  that  you  are  afraid  of  me  or 
that  you're  not " 

"It  couldn't  well  show  both,"  he  interrupted  with  a 
sneer. 

"It  might,"  she  answered.  "If  you  are  afraid  of  me 
and  my  presence  is  the  cause  of  this  outburst,  all  right. 
I'll  still  play  the  game  with  you  and  win  or  lose.  I'll 
take  my  chances.  But  if  you're  not  afraid  of  me,  if 
you've  really  not  been  on  your  guard  for  twenty  years, 
it  means  another  thing.  It  means  that  you've  learned 
your  lesson,  that  the  book  of  the  past  is  closed,  and 

227 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

that  you  have  simply  been  waiting  for  the  time  to  come 
to  do  this  thing  and  save  your  people  from  a  danger 
before  which  you  once  fell." 

"And  which  horn  of  the  dilemma  do  you  take?"  he 
asked  coldly. 

"I  haven't  decided — but  I  will  to-night." 

"How  interesting!" 

"Yes,  isn't  it?"  she  leaned  close.  "With  a  patience 
that  must  have  caused  you  wonder,  with  a  waiting 
through  years  as  God  waits,  I  have  endured  your  in 
difference,  your  coldness,  your  contempt.  Each  year 
I  have  counted  the  last  that  you  could  resist  the  call  of 
my  body  and  soul,  and  at  the  end  of  each  year  I  have 
seen  you  further  and  further  away  from  me  and  the 
gulf  between  us  deeper  and  darker.  This  absence  you 
have  planned  in  this  campaign  means  the  end  one  way 
or  the  other.  I'm  going  to  face  life  now  as  it  is,  not 
as  I've  hoped  it  might  be." 

"I  told  you  when  you  made  your  bargain  to  return 
to  this  house,  that  there  could  be  nothing  between  us 
except  a  hate  that  is  eternal " 

"And  I  didn't  believe  it!  Now  I'm  going  to  face  it 
if  I  must " 

She  paused,  breathed  deeply  and  her  eyes  were  like 
glowing  coals  as  she  slowly  went  on : 

"I'm  not  the  kind  to  give  up  without  a  fight.  I've 
lived  and  learned  the  wisdom  of  caution  and  cunning. 
I'm  not  old  and  I've  still  a  fool's  confidence  in  my  pow 
ers.  I'm  not  quite  thirty-nine,  strong  and  sound  in 
body  and  spirit,  alive  to  my  finger  tips  with  the  full 
blood  of  a  grown  woman — and  so  I  warn  you " 

"You  warn  me" — he  cried  with  a  flush  of  anger. 

"Yes.  I  warn  you  not  to  push  me  too  far.  I  have 
228 


A    WOMAN  SCORNED 


negro  blood  in  me,  but  I'm  at  least  human,  and  I'm  go 
ing  to  be  treated  as  a  human  being." 

"And  may  I  ask  what  you  mean  by  that?"  he  asked 
sarcastically. 

"That  I'm  going  to  demand  my  rights." 

"Demand?" 

"Exactly." 

"Your  rightsf" 

"The  right  to  love " 

Norton  broke  into  a  bitter,  angry  laugh : 

"Are  you  demanding  that  I  marry  you?" 

"I'm  not  quite  that  big  a  fool.  No.  Your  laws 
forbid  it.  All  right — there  are  higher  laws  than  yours. 
The  law  that  drew  you  to  me  in  this  room  twenty  years 
ago,  in  spite  of  all  your  fears  and  your  prejudices" — • 
she  paused  and  her  eyes  glowed  in  the  shadows — "I  gave 
you  my  soul  and  body  then " 

"Gifts  I  never  sought " 

"Yet  you  took  them  and  I'm  here  a  part  of  your 
life.  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me?  I'm  not  the 
negro  race.  I'm  just  a  woman  who  loves  you  and  asks 
that  you  treat  her  fairly." 

"Treat  you  fairly !  Did  I  ever  want  you  ?  Or  seek 
you?  You  came  to  me,  thrust  yourself  into  my  office, 
and  when  I  discharged  you,  pushed  your  way  into  my 
home.  You  won  my  boy's  love  and  made  my  wife  think 
you  were  indispensable  to  her  comfort  and  happiness. 
I  tried  to  avoid  you.  •  It  was  useless.  You  forced  your 
self  into  my  presence  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night. 
What  happened  was  your  desire,  not  mine.  And  when 
I  reproached  myself  with  bitter  curses  you  laughed  for 
joy !  And  you  talk  to  me  to-day  of  fairness  !  You  who 
dragged  me  from  that  banquet  hall  the  night  of  my 


THE  SINS   OF  THE   FATHER 

triumph  to  hurl  me  into  despair!  You  who  blighted 
my  career  and  sent  me  blinded  with  grief  and  shame 
groping  through  life  with  the  shadow  of  death  on  my 
soul !  You  who  struck  your  bargain  of  a  pound  of  flesh 
next  to  my  heart,  and  fought  your  way  back  into  my 
house  again  to  hold  me  a  prisoner  for  life,  chained  to 
the  dead  body  of  my  shame — you  talk  to  me  about  fair 
ness — great  God!" 

He  stopped,  strangled  with  passion,  his  tall  figure 
towering  above  her,  his  face  livid,  his  hands  clutched 
in  rage. 

She  laughed  hysterically: 

"Why  don't  you  strike!  I'm  not  your  equal  in 
strength — I  dare  you  to  do  it — I  dare  you  to  do  it !  I 
dare  you — do  you  hear?" 

With  a  sudden  grip  she  tore  the  frail  silk  from  its 
fastenings  at  her  throat,  pressed  close  and  thrust  her 
angry  face  into  his  in  a  desperate  challenge  to  physical 
violence. 

His  eyes  held  hers  a  moment  and  his  hands  relaxed : 

"I'd  like  to  kill  you.     I  could  do  it  with  joy!" 

"Why  don't  you?" 

"You're  not  worth  the  price  of  such  a  crime!" 

"You'd  just  as  well  do  it,  as  to  wish  it.  Don't  be  a 
coward !"  Her  eyes  burned  with  suppressed  fire. 

He  looked  at  her  with  cold  anger  and  his  lip  twitched 
with  a  smile  of  contempt. 

The  strain  was  more  than  her  nerves  could  bear. 
With  a  sob  she  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck.  He 
seized  them  angrily,  her  form  collapsed  and  she  clung 
to  him  with  blind  hysterical  strength. 

He  waited  a  moment  and  spoke  in  quiet  determined 
tones : 

230 


I  dare  you — do  you  hear?  '  " 


A    WOMAN   SCORNED 


"Enough  of-  this  now." 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his,  pleading  with  despera 
tion: 

"Please  be  kind  to  me  just  this  last  hour  before  you 
go,  and  I'll  be  content  if  you  give  no  more.  I'll  never 
intrude  again." 

She  relaxed  her  hold,  dropped  to  a  seat  and  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands : 

"Oh,  my  God!  Are  you  made  of  stone — have  you 
no  pity?  Through  all  these  years  I've  gone  in  and 
out  of  this  house  looking  into  your  face  for  a  sign  that 
you  thought  me  human,  and  you've  given  none.  I've 
lived  on  the  memories  of  the  few  hours  when  you  were 
mine.  I've  sometimes  told  myself  it  was  just  a  dream, 
that  it  never  happened — until  I've  almost  believed  it. 
You've  pretended  that  it  wasn't  true.  You've  strangled 
these  memories  and  told  yourself  over  and  over  again 
that  it  never  happened.  I've  seen  you  doing  this — 
seen  it  in  your  cold,  deep  eyes.  Well,  it's  a  lie!  You 
were  mine!  You  shall  not  forget  it — you  can't  forget 
it — I  won't  let  you,  I  tell  you !" 

The  voice  broke  again  into  sobs. 

He  stood  with  arms  folded,  watching  her  in  silence. 
Her  desperate  appeal  to  his  memories  and  his  physical 
passion  had  only  stirred  anger  and  contempt.  He  was 
seeing  now  as  he  had  never  noticed  before  the  growing 
marks  of  her  negroid  character.  The  anger  was  for 
her,  the  contempt  for  himself.  He  noticed  the  growth 
of  her  lips  with  age,  the  heavy  sensual  thickness  of  the 
negroid  type! 

It  was  inconceivable  that  in  this  room  the  sight  of 
her  had  once  stirred  the  Beast  in  him  to  incontrollable 
madness.  There  was  at  least  some  consolation  in  the 

231 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

fact  that  he  had  made  progress.  He  couldn't  see  this 
if  he  hadn't  moved  to  a  higher  plane. 

He  spoke  at  length  in  quiet  tones : 

"I  am  waiting  for  you  to  go.  I  have  work  to  do  to 
night." 

She  rose  with  a  quick,  angry  movement : 

"It's  all  over,  then.  There's  not  a  chance  that  you'll 
change  your  mind?" 

"Not  if  you  were  the  last  woman  on  earth  and  I 
the  last  man." 

He  spoke  without  bitterness  but  with  a  firmness  that 
was  final. 

"All  right.  I  know  what  to  expect  now  and  I'll  plan 
my  own  life." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"That  there's  going  to  be  a  change  in  my  relations 
to  your  servants  for  one  thing." 

"Your  relations  to  my  servants?"  he  repeated  in 
credulously. 

"Yes." 

"In  what  respect?" 

"I'm  not  going  to  take  any  more  insolence  from  Min 
erva " 

"Keep  out  of  the  kitchen  and  let  her  alone.  She's 
the  best  cook  I  ever  had." 

"If  I  keep  this  house  for  you,  I  demand  the  full 
authority  of  my  position.  I'll  hire  the  servants  and 
discharge  them  when  I  choose." 

"You'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  he  answered  firmly. 

"Then  I  demand  that  you  discharge  Minerva  and 
Andy  at  once." 

"What's  the  matter  with  Andy?" 

"I  loathe  him." 


A    WOMAN  SCORNED 


"Well,  I  like  him,  and  he's  going  to  stay.  Anything 
else?" 

"You'll  pay  no  attention  to  my  wishes  ?" 

"I'm  master  of  this  house." 

"And  in  your  absence?" 

"My  son  will  be  here." 

"All  right,  I  understand  now." 

"If  I  haven't  made  it  plain,  I'll  do  so." 

"Quite  clear,  thank  you,"  she  answered  slowly. 

Norton  walked  to  the  mantel,  leaned  his  elbow  on  the 
shelf  for  a  moment,  returned  and  confronted  her  with 
his  hands  thrust  into  his  pockets,  his  feet  wide  apart,  his 
whole  attitude  one  of  cool  defiance. 

"Now  I  want  to  know  what  you're  up  to  ?  These  ab 
surd  demands  are  a  blind.  They  haven't  fooled  me. 
There's  something  else  in  the  back  of'  your  devilish 
mind.  What  is  it?  I  want  to  know  exactly  what  you 
mean  ?" 

Cleo  laughed  a  vicious  little  ripple  of  amusement: 

"Yes,  I  know  you  do — but  you  won't !" 

"All  right,  as  you  please.  A  word  from  you  and 
Helen's  life  is  blasted.  A  word  from  you  and  I  with 
draw  from  this  campaign,  and  another  will  lead  it. 
Speak  that  word  if  you  dare,  and  I'll  throw  you  out  of 
this  house  and  your  last  hold  on  my  life  is  broken." 

"I've  thought  of  that,  too,"  she  said  with  a  smile. 

"It  will  be  worth  the  agony  I'll  endure,"  he  cried,  "to 
know  that  I'm  free  of  you  and  breathe  God's  clean 
air  at  last !" 

He  spoke  the  words  with  an  earnestness,  a  deep  and 
bitter  sincerity,  that  was  not  lost  on  her  keen  ears. 

She  started  to  reply,  hesitated  and  was  silent. 

He  saw  his  advantage  and  pressed  it: 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

"I  want  you  to  understand  fully  that  I  know  now 
and  I  have  always  known  that  I  am  at  your  mercy  when 
you  see  fit  to  break  the  word  you  pledged.  Yet  there 
has  never  been  a  moment  during  the  past  twenty  years 
that  I've  been  really  afraid  of  you.  When  the  hour 
comes  for  my  supreme  humiliation,  I'll  meet  it.  Speak 
as  soon  as  you  like." 

She  had  walked  calmly  to  the  door,  paused  and 
looked  back: 

"You  needn't  worry,  major,"  she  said  smoothly,  "I'm 
not  quite  such  a  fool  as  all  that.  I've  been  silent  too 
many  years.  It's  a  habit  I'll  not  easily  break."  Her 
white  teeth  gleamed  in  a  cold  smile  as  she  added: 

"Good  night." 

A  hundred  times  he  told  himself  that  she  wouldn't 
dare,  but  he  left  home  next  lay  with  a  sickening  fear 
slowly  stealing  into  his  heart. 


CHAPTER  VI 

AN  OLD  COMEDY 

NORTON  had  scarcely  passed  his  gate  on  the  way  to 
catch  the  train  when  Cleo  left  the  window,  where  her 
keen  eyes  had  been  watching,  and  made  her  way  rapidly 
to  the  room  he  had  just  vacated. 

Books  and  papers  were  scattered  loosely  over  his 
table  beside  the  typewriter  which  he  had,  with  his  usual 
carelessness,  left  open. 

With  a  quick  decision  she  seated  herself  beside  the 
machine  and  in  two  hours  sufficiently  mastered  its  use 
to  write  a  letter  by  using  a  single  finger  and  carefully 
touching  the  keys  one  by  one. 

The  light  of  a  cunning  purpose  burned  in  her  eyes 
as  she  held  up  the  letter  which  she  had  written  on  a 
sheet  paper  with  the  embossed  heading  of  his  home 
address  at  the  top. 

She  re-read  it,  smiling  over  the  certainty  of  the  suc- 
fcess  of  her  plan.  The  letter  was  carefully  and  simply 
worded : 

"My  DEAR  Miss  HELEN: 

"As  your  guardian  is  still  in  Europe,  I  feel  it  my  duty, 
and  a  pleasant  one,  to  give  you  a  glimpse  of  the  South 
before  you  go  abroad.  Please  come  at  once  to  my  home 
for  as  long  as  you  care  to  stay.  If  I  am  away  in  the  cam- 

235 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

paign  when  you  arrive,  my  son  and  housekeeper,  Cleo,  will 
make  you  at  home  and  I  trust  happy. 

"With  kindest  regards,  and  hoping  to  see  you  soon, 
"Sincerely, 

"DANIEL  NORTON/' 

The  signature  she  practiced  with  a  pen  for  half  an 
hour  until  her  imitation  was  almost  perfect  and  then 
signed  it.  Satisfied  with  the  message,  she  addressed  an 
envelope  to  "Miss  Helen  Winslow,  Convent  of  the 
Sacred  Heart,  Racine,  Wisconsin,"  sealed  and  posted 
it  with  her  own  hand. 

The  answer  came  six  days  later.  Cleo  recognized  the 
post  mark  at  once,  broke  the  seal  and  read  it  with 
dancing  eyes: 

"My  DEAR  MAJOR  NORTON: 

"I  am  wild  with  joy  over  your  kind  invitation.  As  my 
last  examinations  are  over  I  will  not  wait  for  the  Com 
mencement  exercises.  I  am  so  excited  over  this  trip  I 
just  can't  wait.  I  am  leaving  day  after  to-morrow  and 
hope  to  arrive  almost  as  soon  as  this  letter. 
"With  a  heart  full  of  gratitude, 

"Your  lonely  ward, 

"HELEN/' 

Two  days  later  a  hack  rolled  up  the  graveled  walk 
to  the  white  porch,  a  girl  leaped  out  and  bounded  up 
the  steps,  her  cheeks  flushed,  her  wide  open  blue  eyes 
dancing  with  excitement. 

She  was  evidently  surprised  to  find  that  Cleo  was  an 
octoroon,  blushed  and  extended  her  hand  with  a  timid 
hesitating  look : 

"This — this — is  Cleo — the  major's  housekeeper?" 
she  asked. 

The  quick  eye  of  the  woman  took  in  at  a  glance  the 


'AN   OLD   COMEDY 


charm  of  the  shy  personality  and  the  loneliness  of  the 
young  soul  that  looked  out  from  her  expressive  eyes. 

"Yes,"  she  answered  mechanically. 

"I'm  so  sorry  that  the  major's  away — the  driver 
told  me " 

"Oh,  it's  all  right,"  Cleo  said  with  a  smile,  "he  wrote 
us  to  make  you  feel  at  home.  Just  walk  right  in,  your 
room  is  all  ready." 

"Thank  you  so  much,"  Helen  responded,  drawing  a 
deep  breath  and  looking  over  the  lawn  with  its  green 
grass,  its  dense  hedges  and  wonderful  clusters  of  roses 
in  full  bloom.  "How  beautiful  the  South  is — far  more 
beautiful  than  I  had  dreamed!  And  the  perfume  of 
these  roses — why,  the  air  is  just  drowsy  with  their 
honey!  We  have  gorgeous  roses  in  the  North,  but  I 
never  smelled  them  in  the  open  before" — she  paused  and 
breathed  deeply  again  and  again — "Oh,  it's  fairyland — 
I'll  never  want  to  go  !" 

"I  hope  you  won't,"  Cleo  said  earnestly. 

"The  major  asked  me  to  stay  as  long  as  I  wished. 
I  have  his  letter  here" — she  drew  the  letter  from  her 
bag  and  opened  it — "see  what  he  says:  'Please  come 
at  once  to  my  home  for  as  long  as  you  can  stay' — now 
wasn't  that  sweet  of  him?" 

"Very,"  was  the  strained  reply. 

The  girl's  sensitive  ear  caught  the  queer  note  in 
Cleo's  voice  and  looked  at  her  with  a  start. 

"Come,  I  must  show  you  to  your  room,"  she  added, 
hurriedly  opening  the  door  for  Helen  to  pass. 

The  keen  eyes  of  the  woman  were  scanning  the  girl 
and  estimating  her  character  with  increasing  satisfac 
tion.  She  walked  with  exquisite  grace.  Her  figure  was 
almost  the  exact  counterpart  of  her  own  at  twenty — 

237 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

Helen's  a  little  fuller,  the  arms  larger  but  more  beauti 
ful.  The  slender  wrists  and  perfectly  moulded  hand 
would  have  made  a  painter  beg  for  a  sitting.  Her  eyes 
were  deep  blue  and  her  hair  the  richest  chestnut  brown, 
massive  and  slightly  waving,  her  complexion  the  per 
fect  white  and  red  of  the  Northern  girl  who  had 
breathed  the  pure  air  of  the  fields  and  hills.  The  sure, 
swift,  easy  way  in  which  she  walked  told  of  perfect 
health  and  exhaustless  vitality.  Her  voice  was  low  and 
sweet  and  full  of  shy  tenderness. 

A  smile  of  triumph  flashed  from  Cleo's  greenish  eyes 
as  she  watched  her  swiftly  cross  the  hall  toward  the 
stairs. 

"I'll  win!"  she  exclaimed  softly. 

Helen  turned  sharply. 

"Did  you  speak  to  me?"  she  asked  blushing. 

"No.  I  was  just  thinking  aloud." 

"Excuse  me,  I  thought  you  said  something  to  me — " 

"It  would  have  been  something  very  nice  if  I  had," 
Cleo  said  with  a  friendly  smile. 

"Thank  you — oh,  I  feel  that  I'm  going  to  be  so- 
happy  here!" 

"I  hope  so." 

"When  do  you  think  the  major  will  come?" 

The  woman's  face  clouded  in  spite  of  her  effort  at 
self-control : 

"It  may  be  a  month  or  more." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  anxious  to  see  him !  He  has  been  acting 
for  my  old  guardian,  who  is  somewhere  abroad,  ever 
since  I  can  remember.  I've  begged  and  begged  him 
to  come  to  see  me,  but  he  never  came.  It  was  so  far 
away,  I  suppose.  He  never  even  sent  me  his  picture, 
though  I've  asked  him  often.  What  sort  of  a  man  is  he?" 

238 


'AN   OLD   COMEDY 


Cleo  smiled  and  hesitated,  and  then  spoke  with  ap 
parent  carelessness: 

"A  very  striking  looking  man." 

"With  a  kind  face?" 

"A  very  stern  one,  clean  shaven,  with  deep  set  eyes, 
a  firm  mouth,  a  strong  jaw  that  can  be  cruel  when  he 
wishes,  a  shock  of  thick  iron  gray  hair,  tall,  very  tall 
and  well  built.  He  weighs  two  hundred  and  fifteen  now 
— he  was  very  thin  when  young." 

"And  his  voice?" 

"Gentle,  but  sometimes  hard  as  steel  when  he  wishes 
it  to  be." 

"Oh,  I'll  be  scared  to  death  when  I  see  him!  I  had 
pictured  him  just  the  opposite." 

"How?" 

"Why,  I  hardly  know — but  I  thought  his  voice  would 
be  always  gentle  like  I  imagine  a  Southern  father's  who 
loved  his  children  very  much.  And  I  thought  his  hair 
would  be  blonde,  with  a  kind  face  and  friendly  laugh 
ing  eyes — blue,  like  mine.  His  eyes  aren't  blue?" 

"Dark  brown." 

"I  know  I'll  run  when  he  comes." 

"We'll  make  you  feel  at  home  and  you'll  not  be  afraid. 
Mr.  Tom  will  be  here  to  lunch  in  a  few  minutes  and 
I'll  introduce  you." 

"Then  I  must  dress  at  once !" 

"The  first  door  at  the  head  of  the  stairs — your  trunk 
has  already  been  taken  up." 

Cleo  watched  the  swift,  strong,  young  form  mount 
the  stairs. 

"It's  absolutely  certain !"  she  cried  under  her  breath. 
"I'll  win— I'll  win!" 

She  broke  into  a  low  laugh  and  hurried  to  set  the 
239 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

table  in  a  bower  of  the  sweetest  roses  that  were  in 
bloom.  Their  languorous  odor  filled  the  house. 

Helen  was  waiting  in  the  old-fashioned  parlor  when 
Tom's  step  echoed  on  the  stoop.  Cleo  hurried  to  meet 
him  on  the  porch. 

His  face  clouded  with  a  scowl: 

"She's  here?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Handsome  Boy,"  Cleo  answered  cheerfully. 
"And  lunch  is  ready — do  rub  that  awful  scowl  off  your 
face  and  look  like  you're  glad." 

"Well,  I'm  not — so  what's  the  use?  It'll  be  a  mess 
to  have  a  girl  on  my  hands  day  and  night  and  I've 
got  no  time  for  it.  I  wish  Dad  was  here.  I  know  I'll 
hate  the  sight  of  her." 

Cleo  smiled: 

"Better  wait  until  you  see  her." 

"Where  is  she?" 

"In  the  parlor." 

"All  right — the  quicker  a  disagreeable  job's  over 
the  better." 

"Shall  I  introduce  you?" 

"No,  I'll  do  it  myself,"  he  growled,  bracing  himself 
for  the  ordeal. 

As  he  entered  the  door  he  stopped  short  at  the  vision 
as  Helen  sprang  to  her  feet  and  came  to  meet  him. 
She  was  dressed  in  the  softest  white  filmy  stuff,  as  light 
as  a  feather,  bare  arms  and  neck,  her  blue  eyes  sparkling 
with  excitement,  her  smooth,  fair  cheeks  scarlet  with 
blushes. 

The  boy's  heart  stopped  beating  in  sheer  surprise. 
He  expected  a  frowzy  little  waif  from  an  orphanage, 
blear-eyed,  sad,  soulful  and  tiresome. 

This  shining,  blushing,  wonderful  creature  took  his 

240 


AN   OLD    COMEDY 


breath.  He  stared  at  first  with  open  mouth,  until  Cleo's 
laugh  brought  him  to  his  senses  just  as  he  began  to 
hear  Helen's  low  sweet  voice : 

"And  this  is  Mr.  Tom,  I  suppose?  I  am  Helen  Win- 
slow,  your  father's  ward,  from  the  West — at  least  he's 
all  the  guardian  I've  ever  known." 

Tom  grasped  the  warm  little  hand  extended  in  so 
friendly  greeting  and  held  it  in  dazed  surprise  until 
Cleo's  low  laughter  again  roused  him. 

"Yes — I — I — am  delighted  to  see  you,  Miss  Helen, 
and  I'm  awfully  sorry  my  father  couldn't  be  here  to 
welcome  you.  I — I'll  do  the  best  I  can  for  you  in  his 
absence." 

"Oh,  thank  you,"  she  murmured. 

"You  know  you're  not  at  all  like  I  expected  to  find 
you,"  he  said  hesitatingly. 

"I  hope  I  haven't  disappointed  you,"  she  answered 
demurely. 

"No — no" — he  protested — "just  the  opposite." 

He  stopped  and  blushed  for  fear  he'd  said  too  much. 

"And  you're  just  the  opposite  from  what  I'd  pictured 
you  since  Cleo  told  me  how  your  father  looks." 

"And  what  did  you  expect?"  he  asked  eagerly. 

"A  stern  face,  dark  hair,  dark  eyes  and  a  firm  mouth." 

"And  you  find  instead?" 

Helen  laughed: 

"I'm  afraid  you  love  flattery." 

Tom  hurried  to  protest: 

"Really,  I  wasn't  fishing  for  a  compliment,  but  I'm 
so  unlike  my  father,  it's  a  joke.  I  get  my  blonde  hair 
and  blue  eyes  from  my  mother  and  my  great-grand 
father." 

Before  he  knew  what  was  happening  Tom  was  seated 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

by  her  side  talking  and  laughing  as  if  they  had  known 
each  other  a  lifetime. 

Helen  paused  for  breath,  put  her  elbow  on  the  old 
mahogany  table,  rested  her  dimpled  chin  in  the  palm 
of  her  pretty  hand  and  looked  at  Tom  with  a  mis 
chievous  twinkle  in  her  blue  eyes. 

"What's  the  joke?"  he  asked. 

"Do  you  know  that  you're  the  first  boy  I  ever  talked 
to  in  my  life?" 

"No- — really?"  he  answered  incredulously. 

"Don't  you  think  I  do  pretty  well?" 

"Perfectly  wonderful !" 

"You  see,  I've  played  this  scene  so  many  times  in 
my  day  dreams " 

"And  it's  like  your  dream?" 

"Remarkably!" 

"How?" 

"You're  just  the  kind  of  boy  I  always  thought  I'd 
meet  first " 

"How  funny!" 

"Yes,  exactly,"  she  cried  excitedly  and  with  a  serious 
tone  in  her  voice  that  was  absolutely  convincing. 
"You're  so  jolly  and  friendly  and  easy  to  talk  to,  I 
feel  as  if  I've  known  you  all  my  life." 

"And  I  feel  the  same — isn't  it  funny?" 

They  both  laughed  immoderately. 

"Come,"  the  boy  cried,  "I  want  to  show  you  my 
mother's  and  my  grandfather's  portraits  in  the  library. 
You'll  see  where  I  get  my  silly  blonde  hair,  my  slightly 
pug  nose  and  my  very  friendly  ways." 

She  rose  with  a  laugh: 

"Your  nose  isn't  pug,  it's  just  good-humored." 

"Amount  to  the  same  thing." 


•AN   OLD   COMEDY 


"And  your  hair  is  very  distinguished  looking  for  a 
boy.  I'd  envy  it,  if  it  were  a  girl's." 

Tom  led  the  way  into  the  big,  square  library  which 
opened  on  the  pillared  porch  both  on  the  rear  and  on 
the  side  of  the  house.  Before  the  fireplace  he  paused 
and  pointed  to  his  mother's  portrait  done  in  oil  by  a 
famous  artist  in  New  York. 

It  was  life-size  and  the  canvas  filled  the  entire  space 
between  the  two  fluted  columns  of  the  Colonial  mantel 
which  reached  to  the  ceiling.  The  woodwork  of  the 
mantelpiece  was  of  dark  mahogany  and  the  background 
of  the  portrait  the  color  of  bright  gold  which  seemed  to 
melt  into  the  lines  of  the  massive  smooth  gilded  frame. 

The  effect  was  wonderfully  vivid  and  life-like  in  the 
sombre  coloring  of  the  book-lined  walls.  The  picture 
and  frame  seemed  a  living  flame  in  its  dark  setting. 
The  portrait  was  an  idealized  study  of  the  little  mother. 
The  artist  had  put  into  his  canvas  the  spirit  of  the  ten- 
derest  brooding  motherhood.  The  very  curve  of  her 
arms  holding  the  child  to  her  breast  seemed  to  breathe 
tenderness.  The  smile  that  played  about  her  delicate  lips 
and  blue  eyes  was  ethereal  in  its  fleeting  spirit  beauty. 

The  girl  caught  her  breath  in  surprise : 

"What  a  wonderful  picture — it's  perfectly  divine! 
I  feel  like  kneeling  before  it." 

"It  is  an  altar,"  the  boy  said  reverently.  "I've  seen 
my  father  sit  in  that  big  chair  brooding  for  hours  while 
he  looked  at  it.  And  ever  since  he  put  those  two  old 
gold  candlesticks  in  front  of  it  I  can't  get  it  out  of 
my  head  that  he  slips  in  here,  kneels  in  the  twilight  and 
prays  before  it." 

"He  must  have  loved  your  mother  very  tenderly,"  she 
said  softly. 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"I  think  he  worships  her  still,"  the  boy  answered 
simply. 

"Oh,  I  could  die  for  a  man  like  that !"  she  cried  with 
sudden  passion. 

Tom  pointed  to  his  grandfather's  portrait: 

"And  there  you  see  my  distinguished  features  and 
my  pug  nose " 

Cleo  appeared  in  the  door  smiling : 

"I've  been  waiting  for  you  to  come  to  lunch,  Mr. 
Boy,  for  nearly  an  hour." 

"Well,  for  heaven's  sake,  why  didn't  you  let  us 
know?" 

"I  told  you  it  was  ready  when  you  came." 

"Forgot  all  about  it." 

He  was  so  serenely  unconscious  of  anything  unusual 
in  his  actions  that  he  failed  to  notice  the  smile  that 
continuously  played  about  Cleo's  mouth  or  to  notice 
Andy's  evident  enjoyment  of  the  little  drama  as  he 
bowed  and  scraped  and  waited  on  the  table  with  un 
usual  ceremony. 

Aunt  Minerva,  hearing  Andy's  report  of  the  sudden 
affair  that  had  developed  in  the  major's  absence,  left 
the  kitchen  and  stood  in  the  door  a  moment,  her  huge 
figure  completely  filling  the  space  while  she  watched 
the  unconscious  boy  and  girl  devouring  each  other  with 
sparkling  eyes. 

She  waved  her  fat  hand  over  their  heads  to  Andy, 
laughed  softly  and  left  without  their  noticing  her  pres 
ence. 

The  luncheon  was  the  longest  one  that  had  been 
known  within  the  memory  of  anyone  present.  Minerva 
again  wandered  back  to  the  door,  fascinated  by  the  pic 
ture  they  made,  and  whispered  to  Andy  as  he  passed: 

£44 


AN   OLD    COMEDY 


"Well,  fer  de  Lawd's  sake,  is  dey  gwine  ter  set  dar  all 
day?" 

"Nobum — 'bout  er  nodder  hour,  an'  he'll  go  back  ter 
de  office." 

Tom  suddenly  looked  at  his  watch: 

"Heavens !  I'm  late.  I'll  run  down  to  the  office  and 
cut  the  work  out  for  the  day  in  honor  of  your  com- 
ing." 

Helen  rose  blushing: 

"Oh,  I'm  afraid  I'll  make  trouble  for  you." 

"No  trouble  at  all!    I'll  be  back  in  ten  minutes." 

"I'll  be  on  the  lawn  in  that  wilderness  of  roses.  The 
odor  is  maddening — it's  so  sweet." 

"All  right — and  then  I'll  show  you  the  old  rose  gar 
den  the  other  side  of  the  house." 

"It's  awfully  good  of  you,  but  I'm  afraid  I'm  tak 
ing  your  time  from  work." 

"It's  all  right !  I'll  make  the  other  fellows  do  it  to 
day." 

She  blushed  again  and  waved  her  bare  arm  high  over 
her  dark  brown  hair  from  the  porch  as  he  swung 
through  the  gate  and  disappeared. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  had  returned.  Through  the  long 
hours  of  a  beautiful  summer  afternoon  they  walked 
through  the  enchanted  paths  of  the  old  garden  on  vel 
vet  feet,  the  boy  pouring  out  his  dreams  and  high  am 
bitions,  the  girl's  lonely  heart  for  the  first  time  in  life 
basking  in  the  joyous  light  of  a  perfect  day. 

Andy  made  an  excuse  to  go  in  the  garden  and  putter 
about  some  flowers  just  to  watch  them,  laugh  and 
chuckle  over  the  exhibition.  He  was  just  in  time  as  he 
softly  approached  behind  a  trellis  of  climbing  roses  to 
hear  Tom  say: 

245 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

"Please  give  me  that  bud  you're  wearing?" 

"Why?"  she  asked  demurely. 

"Just  because  I've  taken  a  fancy  to  it." 

She  blushed  scarlet,  took  the  rosebud  from  her  bosom 
and  pinned  it  on  his  coat: 

"All  right— there !" 

Andy  suppressed  a  burst  of  laughter  and  hurried 
back  to  report  to  Minerva. 

For  four  enchanted  weeks  the  old  comedy  of  life  was 
thus  played  by  the  boy  and  girl  in  sweet  and  utter 
unconsciousness  of  its  meaning.  He  worked  only  in 
the  mornings  and  rushed  home  for  lunch  unusually 
early.  The  afternoon  usually  found  them  seated  side 
by  side  slowly  driving  over  the  quiet  country  roads. 
Two  battlefields  of  the  civil  war,  where  his  father  had 
led  a  regiment  of  troops  in  the  last  desperate  engage 
ment  with  Sherman's  army  two  weeks  after  Lee  had 
surrendered  at  Appomattox,  kept  them  busy  each  after 
noon  for  a  week. 

At  night  they  sat  on  the  moonlit  porch  behind  the 
big  pillars  and  he  talked  to  her  of  the  great  things  of 
life  with  simple  boyish  enthusiasm.  Sometimes  they 
walked  side  by  side  through  the  rose-scented  lawn  and 
paused  to  hear  the  love  song  of  a  mocking-bird  whose 
mate  was  busy  each  morning  teaching  her  babies  to 

fly- 

The  world  had  become  a  vast  rose  garden  of  light 
and  beauty,  filled  with  the  odors  of  flowers  and  spices 
and  dreamy  strains  of  ravishing  music. 

And  behind  it  all,  nearer  crept  the  swift  shadow 
whose  tread  was  softer  than  the  foot  of  a  summer's 
cloud. 


246 


CHAPTER  VII 

TRAPPED 

NORTON'S  campaign  during  its  first  months  was  a 
continuous  triumph.  The  opposition  had  been  so  com 
pletely  stunned  by  the  epoch-making  declaration  of 
principles  on  which  he  had  chosen  to  conduct  the  fight 
that  they  had  as  yet  been  unable  to  rally  their  forces. 
Even  the  rival  newspaper,  founded  to  combat  the  ideas 
for  which  the  Eagle  and  Phoenix  stood,  was  compelled 
to  support  Norton's  ticket  to  save  itself  from  ruin. 
The  young  editor  found  a  source  of  endless  amusement 
in  taunting  the  professor  on  this  painful  fact. 

The  leader  had  chosen  to  begin  his  tour  of  the  state 
in  the  farthest  mountain  counties  that  had  always  been 
comparatively  free  from  negro  influence.  These  coun 
ties  were  counted  as  safe  for  the  opposition  before  the 
startling  program  of  the  editor's  party  had  been  an 
nounced.  Yet  from  the  first  day's  mass  meeting  which 
he  had  addressed  an  enthusiasm  had  been  developed 
under  the  spell  of  Norton's  eloquence  that  had  swept  the 
crowds  of  mountaineers  off  their  feet.  They  had  never 
been  slave  owners,  and  they  had  no  use  for  a  negro  as 
servant,  laborer,  voter,  citizen,  or  in  any  other  capacity. 
The  idea  of  freeing  the  state  forever  from  their  baleful 
influence  threw  the  entire  white  race  into  solid  ranks 
supporting  his  ticket. 

The  enthusiasm  kindled  in  the  mountains  swept  the 
247 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

foothills,  gaining  resistless  force  as  it  reached  the  more 
inflammable  feelings  of  the  people  of  the  plains  who 
were  living  in  daily  touch  with  the  negro. 

Yet  amid  all  the  scenes  of  cheering  and  enthusiasm 
through  which  he  was  passing  daily  the  heart  of  the 
leader  was  heavy  with  dread.  His  mind  was  brood 
ing  over  the  last  scene  with  Cleo  and  its  possible  out 
come. 

He  began  to  worry  with  increasing  anguish  over  the 
certainty  that  when  she  struck  the  blow  would  be  a 
deadly  one.  The  higher  the  tide  of  his  triumph  rose, 
the  greater  became  the  tension  of  his  nerves.  Each 
day  had  its  appointment  to  speak.  Some  days  were 
crowded  with  three  or  four  engagements.  These  dates 
were  made  two  weeks  ahead  and  great  expense  had  been 
incurred  in  each  case  to  advertise  them  and  secure  rec 
ord  crowds.  It  was  a  point  of  honor  with  him  to  make 
good  these  dates  even  to  the  smallest  appointment  at 
a  country  crossroads. 

It  was  impossible  to  leave  for  a  trip  home.  It  would 
mean  the  loss  of  at  least  four  days.  Yet  his  anxiety 
at  last  became  so  intense  that  he  determined  to  rear 
range  his  dates  and  swing  his  campaign  into  the  terri 
tory  near  the  Capital  at  once.  It  was  not  a  good  pol 
icy.  He  would  risk  the  loss  of  the  cumulative  power 
of  his  work  now  sweeping  from  county  to  county,  a 
resistless  force.  But  it  would  enable  him  to  return 
home  for  a  few  hours  between  his  appointments. 

There  had  been  nothing  in  Tom's  reports  to  arouse 
his  fears.  The  boy  had  faithfully  carried  out  his  in 
structions  to  give  no  information  that  might  annoy 
him.  His  brief  letters  were  bright,  cheerful,  and  always 
closed  with  the  statement:  "Everything  all  right  at 

248 


TRAPPED 

home,  and  I'm  still  jollying  the  professor  about  sup 
porting  the  cause  he  hates." 

When  he  reached  the  county  adjoining  the  Capital 
his  anxiety  had  reached  a  point  beyond  endurance.  It 
would  be  three  days  before  he  could  connect  with  a 
schedule  of  trains  that  would  enable  him  to  get  home 
between  the  time  of  his  hours  to  speak.  He  simply 
could  not  wait. 

He  telegraphed  to  Tom  to  send  Andy  to  the  meeting 
next  day  with  a  bound  volume  of  the  paper  for  the 
year  1866  which  contained  some  facts  he  wished  to  use 
in  his  speech  in  this  district. 

Andy's  glib  tongue  would  give  him  the  information 
he  needed. 

The  train  was  late  and  the  papers  did  not  arrive  in 
time.  He  was  compelled  to  leave  his  hotel  and  go  to 
the  meeting  without  them. 

An  enormous  crowd  had  gathered.  And  for  the  first 
time  on  his  tour  he  felt  hostility  in  the  glances  that 
occasionally  shot  from  groups  of  men  as  he  passed.  The 
county  was  noted  for  its  gangs  of  toughs  who  lived  on 
the  edge  of  a  swamp  that  had  been  the  rendezvous  of 
criminals  for  a  century. 

The  opposition  had  determined  to  make  a  disturbance 
at  this  meeting  and  if  possible  end  it  with  a  riot.  They 
counted  on  the  editor's  fiery  temper  when  aroused  to 
make  this  a  certainty.  They  had  not  figured  on  the 
cool  audacity  with  which  he  would  meet  such  a  situa 
tion. 

When  he  reached  the  speaker's  stand,  the  county 
Chairman  whispered : 

"They  are  going  to  make  trouble  here  to-day." 

"Yes?" 

249 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"They've  got  a  speaker  who's  going  to  demand  a 
division  of  time." 

The  editor  smiled: 

"Really?" 

"Yes,"  the  Chairman  said,  nodding  toward  a  tall, 
ministerial-looking  individual  who  was  already  working 
his  way  through  the  crowd.  "That's  the  fellow  com 
ing  now." 

Norton  turned  and  confronted  the  chosen  orator  of 
the  opposition,  a  backwoods  preacher  of  a  rude  native 
eloquence  whose  name  he  had  often  heard. 

He  saw  at  a  glance  that  he  was  a  man  of  fo^^e.  His 
strong  mouth  wras  clean  of  mustache  and  the  lower  lip 
was  shaved  to  the  chin.  A  long  beard  covered  the  mas 
sive  jaws  and  his  hair  reached  the  collar  of  his  coat. 
He  had  been  a  deserter  during  the  war,  and  a  drunken 
member  of  the  little  Scalawag  Governor's  famous  guard 
that  had  attempted  to  rule  the  state  without  the  civil 
law.  He  had  been  converted  in  a  Baptist  revival  at  a 
crossroads  meeting  place  years  before  and  became  a 
preacher.  His  religious  conversion,  however,  had  not 
reached  his  politics  or  dimmed  his  memory  of  the  events 
of  Reconstruction. 

He  had  hated  Norton  with  a  deep  and  abiding  fervor 
from  the  day  he  had  escaped  from  his  battalion  in  the 
Civil  War  down  to  the  present  moment. 

Norton  hadn't  the  remotest  idea  that  he  was  the 
young  recruit  who  had  taken  to  his  heels  on  entering  a 
battle  and  never  stopped  running  until  he  reached  home. 

"This  is  Major  Norton?"  the  preacher  asked. 

"Yes,"  was  the  curt  answer. 

"I  demand  a  division  of  time  with  you  in  a  joint  dis 
cussion  here,  sir." 

9.50 


TRAPPED 

Norton's  figure  stiffened  and  he  looked  at  the  man 
with  a  flush  of  anger : 

"Did  you  say  demand?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  did,"  the  preacher  answered,  snapping 
his  hard  mouth  firmly.  "We  believe  in  free  speech  in 
this  county." 

Norton  placed  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  looked 
him  over  from  head  to  foot : 

"Well,  you've  got  the  gall  of  the  devil,  I  must  say, 
even  if  you  do  wear  the  livery  of  heaven.  You  demand 
free  speech  at  my  expense !  I  like  your  cheek.  It  cost 
my  conJiittee  two  hundred  dollars  to  advertise  this 
meeting  and  make  it  a  success,  and  you  step  up  at  the 
last  moment  and  demand  that  I  turn  it  over  to  your 
party.  If  you  want  free  speech,  hire  your  own  hall 
and  make  it  to  your  heart's  content.  You  can't  address 
this  crowd  from  a  speaker's  stand  built  with  my 
money." 

"You  refuse?" 

Norton  looked  at  him  steadily  for  a  moment  and 
took  a  step  closer: 

"I  am  trying  to  convey  that  impression  to  your 
mind.  Must  I  use  my  foot  to  emphasize  it?" 

The  long-haired  one  paled  slightly,  turned  and 
quickly  pushed  his  way  through  the  crowd  to  a  group 
awaiting  him  on  the  edge  of  the  brush  arbor  that  had 
been  built  to  shelter  the  people  from  the  sun.  The 
Chairman  whispered  to  Norton: 

"There'll  be  trouble  certain — they're  a  tough  lot. 
More  than  half  the  men  here  are  with  him." 

"They  won't  be  when  I've  finished,"  he  answered  with 
a  smile. 

"You'd  better  divide  with  them " 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"I'll  see  him  in  hell  first!" 

Norton  stepped  quickly  on  the  rude  pine  platform 
that  had  been  erected  for  the  speaker  and  faced  the 
crowd.  For  the  first  time  on  his  trip  the  cheering  was 
given  with  moderation. 

He  saw  the  preacher  walk  back  under  the  arbor  and 
his  men  distribute  themselves  with  apparent  design  in 
different  parts  of  the  crowd. 

He  lifted  his  hand  with  a  gesture  to  stop  the  ap 
plause  and  a  sudden  hush  fell  over  the  eager,  serious 
faces. 

His  eye  wandered  carelessly  over  the  throng  and 
singled  out  the  men  he  had  seen  distribute  themselves 
among  them.  He  suddenly  slipped  his  hand  behind  him 
and  drew  from  beneath  his  long  black  frock  coat  a  big 
revolver  and  laid  it  beside  the  pitcher  of  lemonade  the 
Chairman  had  provided. 

A  slight  stir  swept  the  crowd  and  the  stillness  could 
be  felt. 

The  speaker  lifted  his  broad  shoulders  and  began  his 
speech  in  an  intense  voice  that  found  its  way  to  the  last 
man  who  hung  on  the  edge  of  the  crowd : 

"Gentlemen,"  he  began  slowly,  "if  there's  any  one 
present  who  doesn't  wish  to  hear  what  I  have  to  say, 
now  is  the  time  to  leave.  This  is  my  meeting,  and  I  will 
not  be  interrupted.  If,  in  spite  of  this  announcement, 
there  happens  to  be  any  one  here  who  is  looking  for 
trouble" — he  stopped  and  touched  the  shining  thing 
that  lay  before  him — "you'll  find  it  here  on  the  table — 
walk  right  up  to  the  front." 

A  cheer  rent  the  air.  He  stilled  it  with  a  quick  ges 
ture  and  plunged  into  his  speech. 

In  the  intense  situation  which  had  developed  he  had 


TRAPPED 

forgotten  the  fear  that  had  been  gnawing  at  his  heart 
for  the  past  weeks. 

At  the  height  of  his  power  over  his  audience  his  eye 
suddenly  caught  the  black  face  of  Andy  grinning  in 
evident  admiration  of  his  master's  eloquence. 

Something  in  the  symbolism  of  this  negro  grinning 
at  him  over  the  heads  of  the  people  hanging  breathless 
on  his  words  sent  a  wave  of  sickening  fear  to  his  heart. 
In  vain  he  struggled  to  throw  the  feeling  off  in  the  midst 
of  his  impassioned  appeal.  It  was  impossible.  For  the 
remaining  half  hour  he  spoke  as  if  in  a  trance.  Un 
consciously  his  voice  was  lowered  to  a  strange  intense 
monotone  that  sent  the  chills  down  the  spines  of  his 
hearers. 

He  closed  his  speech  in  a  silence  that  was  stran 
gling. 

The  people  were  dazed  and  he  was  halfway  down  the 
steps  of  the  rude  platform  before  they  sufficiently  re 
covered  to  break  into  round  after  round  of  cheering. 

He  had  unconsciously  made  the  most  powerful  speech 
of  his  life,  and  no  man  in  all  the  crowd  that  he  had 
hypnotized  could  have  dreamed  the  grim  secret  which 
had  been  the  source  of  his  inspiration. 

Without  a  moment's  delay  he  found  Andy,  examined 
the  package  he  brought  and  hurried  to  his  room. 

"Everything  all  right  at  home,  Andy?"  he  asked 
with  apparent  carelessness. 

The  negro  was  still  lost  in  admiration  of  Norton's 
triumph  over  his  hostile  audience. 

"Yassah,  you  sho  did  set  'em  afire  wid  dat  speech, 
major!"  he  said  with  a  laugh. 

"And  I  asked  you  if  everything  was  all  right  at 
home?" 

253 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"Oh,  yassah,  yassah — everything's  all  right.  Of 
cose,  sah,  dey's  a  few  little  things  always  happenin'. 
Dem  pigs  get  in  de  garden  las'  week  an'  et  everything 
up,  an'  dat  ole  cow  er  own  got  de  hollow  horn  agin. 
But  everything  else  all  right,  sah." 

"And  how's  aunt  Minerva?" 

"Des  es  big  an'  fat  ez  ebber,  sah,  an'  er  gittin'  mo* 
unruly  every  day — yassah — she's  gittin'  so  sassy  she 
try  ter  run  de  whole  place  an'  me,  too." 

"AndCleo?" 

This  question  he  asked  bustling  over  his  papers  with 
an  indifference  so  perfectly  assumed  that  Andy  never 
guessed  his  interest  to  be  more  than  casual,  and  yet 
he  ceased  to  breathe  until  he  caught  the  laughing  an 
swer  : 

"Oh,  she's  right  dar  hoklin'  her  own  wid  Miss  Min 
erva  an'  I  tells  her  las'  week  she's  lookin'  better  dan 
ebber — yassah — she's  all  right." 

Norton  felt  a  sense  of  grateful  relief.  His  fears  had 
been  groundless.  They  were  preposterous  to  start 
with.  The  idea  that  she  might  attempt  to  visit  Helen  in 
his  absence  was,  of  course,  absurd. 

His  next  question  was  asked  with  a  good-natured, 
hearty  tone: 

"And  Mr.  Tom?" 

Andy  laughed  immoderately  and  Norton  watched 
him  with  increasing  wonder. 

"Right  dar's  whar  my  tale  begins!" 

"Why,  what's  the  matter  with  him  ?"  the  father  aske3 
with  a  touch  of  anxiety  in  his  voice. 

"Lordy,  dey  ain't  nuttin'  de  matter  wid  him  'tall — * 
hit's  a  fresh  cut!" 

Again  Andy  laughed  with  unction. 


TRAPPED 

"What  is  it?"  Norton  asked  with  impatience. 
"What's  the  matter  with  Tom?" 

"Nuttin'  'tall,  sah — nuttin'  'tall — I  nebber  see  'im 
looldn'  so  well  in  my  life.  He  gets  up  sooner  den  I 
ebber  knowed  him  before.  He  comes  home  quicker  an' 
stays  dar  longer  an'  he's  de  j  oiliest  young  gentleman 
I  know  anywhar  in  de  state.  Mo'  specially,  sah,  since 
dat  handsome  young  lady  from  de  North  come  down 
to  see  us " 

The  father's  heart  was  in  his  throat  as  he  stam 
mered  : 

"A  handsome  young  lady  from  the  North — I  don't 
understand !" 

"Why,  Miss  Helen,  sah,  de  young  lady  you  invite  ter 
spen'  de  summer  wid  us." 

Norton's  eyes  suddenly  grew  dim,  he  leaned  on  the 
table,  stared  at  Andy,  and  repeated  blankly: 

"The  young  lady  I  asked  to  spend  the  summer  with 
us?" 

"Yassah,  Miss  Helen,  sah,  is  her  name — she  cum 
'bout  er  week  atter  you  lef " 

"And  she's  been  there  ever  since?"  he  asked. 

"Yassah,  an'  she  sho  is  a  powerful  fine  young  lady, 
sah.  I  don't  blame  Mister  Tom  fer  bein'  crazy  'bout 
her!" 

There  was  a  moment's  dead  silence. 

"So  Tom's  crazy  about  her?"  he  said  in  a  high,  nerv 
ous  voice,  which  Andy  took  for  a  joke. 

"Yassah,  I'se  had  some  sperience  myself,  sah,  but  I 
ain't  nebber  seen  nuttin'  like  dis !  He  des  trot  long 
atter  her  day  an'  night  like  a  fice.  An'  de  funny  thing, 
sah,  is  dat  he  doan'  seem  ter  know  dat  he's  doin'  it. 
Everybody  'bout  de  house  laffin'  fit  ter  kill  dersef  an' 

255 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

he  don't  pay  no  'tention.  He  des  sticks  to  her  like  a 
sick  kitten  to  a  hot  brick !  Yassah,  hit  sho's  funny !  I 
des  knowed  you'd  bust  er  laughin'  when  you  sees 
'em." 

Norton  had  sunk  to  a  seat  too  weak  to  stand.  His 
face  was  pale  and  his  breath  came  in  short  gasps  as  he 
turned  to  the  negro,  stared  at  him  hopelessly  for  a 
moment  and  said: 

"Andy,  get  me  a  good  horse  and  buggy  at  the  livery 
stable — we'll  drive  through  the  country  to-night.  I 
want  to  get  home  right  away." 

Andy's  mouth  opened  and  his  eyes  stared  in  blank 
amazement. 

"De  Lawd,  major,  hit's  mos'  sundown  now  an'  hit's 
a  hundred  miles  from  here  home — hit  took  me  all  day 
ter  come  on  de  train." 

"No,  it's  only  forty  miles  straight  across  the  country. 
We  can  make  it  to-night  with  a  good  horse.  Hurry,  I'll 
have  my  valise  packed  in  a  few  minutes." 

"Do  you  know  de  way,  sah?"  Andy  asked,  scratching 
his  head. 

"Do  as  I  tell  you — quick !"  Norton  thundered. 

The  negro  darted  from  the  room  and  returned  in 
half  an  hour  with  a  horse  and  buggy. 

Through  the  long  hours  of  the  night  they  drove  with 
but  a  single  stop  at  midnight  in  a  quiet  street  of  a 
sleeping  village.  They  halted  at  the  well  beside  a  store 
and  watered  the  horse. 

A  graveyard  was  passed  a  mile  beyond  the  village, 
and  Andy  glanced  timidly  over  his  shoulder  at  the  white 
marble  slabs  glistening  in  the  starlight.  His  master 
had  not  spoken  for  two  hours  save  the  sharp  order  to 
stop  at  the  well. 

256 


TRAPPED 


"Dis  sho  is  er  lonesome  lookin'  place!"  Andy  said 
with  a  shiver. 

But  the  man  beside  him  gave  no  sign  that  he  heard* 
His  eyes  were  set  in  a  strange  stare  at  the  stars  that 
twinkled  in  the  edge  of  the  tree  tops  far  ahead. 

Andy  grew  so  lonely  and  frightened  finally  at  the 
ominous  silence  that  he  pretended  to  be  lost  at  each 
crossroads  to  force  Norton  to  speak. 

"I  wuz  afraid  you  gone  ter  sleep,  sah !"  he  said  with 
an  apologetic  laugh.  "An'  I  wuz  erfered  dat  you'd  fall 
out  er  de  buggy  gwine  down  er  hill." 

In  vain  he  tried  to  break  the  silence.  There  was  no 
answer — no  sign  that  he  was  in  the  same  world,  save 
the  fact  of  his  body's  presence. 

The  first  streak  of  dawn  was  widening  on  the  eastern 
horizon  when  Norton's  cramped  legs  limped  into  the 
gate  of  his  home.  He  stopped  to  steady  his  nerves  and 
looked  blankly  up  at  the  window  of  his  boy's  room. 
He  had  given  Tom  his  mother's  old  room  when  he  had 
reached  the  age  of  sixteen. 

Somewhere  behind  those  fluted  pillars,  white  and 
ghost-like  in  the  dawn,  lay  the  girl  who  had  suddenly 
risen  from  the  dead  to  lead  his  faltering  feet  up  life's 
Calvary.  He  saw  the  cross  slowly  lifting  its  dark  form 
from  the  hilltop  with  arms  outstretched  to  embrace 
him,  and  the  chill  of  death  crept  into  his  heart. 

The  chirp  of  stirring  birds,  the  dim  noises  of  waking 
life,  the  whitening  skyline  behind  the  house  recalled 
another  morning  in  his  boyhood.  He  had  waked  at 
daylight  to  go  to  his  traps  set  at  the  branch  in  the 
edge  of  the  woods  behind  the  barn.  The  plantation  at 
that  time  had  extended  into  the  town.  A  fox  had  been 
killing  his  fancy  chickens.  He  had  vowed  vengeance  i» 

257 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

his  boyish  wrath,  bought  half  a  dozen  powerful  steel- 
traps  and  set  them  in  the  fox's  path.  The  prowler  had 
been  interrupted  the  night  before  and  had  not  gotten 
his  prey.  He  would  return  sure. 

He  recalled  now  every  emotion  that  had  thrilled  his 
young  heart  as  he  bounded  along  the  dew-soaked  path 
to  his  traps. 

Before  he  could  see  the  place  he  heard  the  struggles 
of  his  captive. 

"I've  got  him!"  he  shouted  with  a  throb  of  savage 


He  leaped  the  fence  and  stood  frozen  to  the  spot. 
The  fox  was  a  magnificent  specimen  of  his  breed,  tall 
and  heavy  as  a  setter  dog,  with  beautiful  appealing 
eyes.  His  fine  gray  fur  was  spotched  with  blood,  his 
mouth  torn  and  bleeding  from  the  effort  to  break  the 
cruel  bars  that  held  his  foreleg  in  their  deathlike  grip. 
With  each  desperate  pull  the  blood  spurted  afresh  and 
the  steel  cut  deeper  into  bone  and  flesh. 

The  strange  cries  of  pain  and  terror  from  the 
trapped  victim  had  struck  him  dumb.  He  had  come 
with  murder  in  his  heart  to  take  revenge  on  his  enemy, 
but  when  he  looked  with  blanched  face  on  the  blood  and 
heard  the  pitiful  cries  he  rushed  to  the  spot,  tore  the 
steel  arms  apart,  loosed  the  fox,  pushed  his  quivering 
form  from  him  and  gasped: 

"Go  —  go  —  I'm  sorry  I  hurt  you  like  that!" 

Stirred  by  the  memories  of  the  dawn  he  lived  this 
scene  again  in  vivid  anguish,  and  as  he  slowly  mounted 
the  steps  of  his  home,  felt  the  steel  bars  of  an  inexor 
able  fate  close  on  his  own  throat. 


258 


CHAPTER  VIII 

BEHIND    THE   BARS 

WHEN  Norton  reached  his  room  he  locked  the  door 
and  began  to  pace  the  floor,  facing  for  the  hundredth 
time  the  stunning  situation  which  the  presence  of  Helen 
had  created. 

To  reveal  to  such  a  sensitive,  cultured  girl  just  as  she 
was  budding  into  womanhood  the  fact  that  her  blood 
was  tainted  with  a  negro  ancestor  would  be  an  act  so 
pitifully  cruel  that  every  instinct  of  his  nature  revolted 
from  the  thought. 

He  began  to  realize  that  her  life  was  at  stake  as  well 
as  his  boy's.  That  he  loved  this  son  with  all  the 
strength  of  his  being  and  that  he  only  knew  the  girl 
to  fear  her,  made  no  difference  in  the  fundamental  facts. 
He  acknowledged  that  she  was  his.  He  had  accepted 
the  fact  and  paid  the  penalty  in  the  sacrifice  of  every 
ambition  of  a  brilliant  mind. 

He  weighed  carefully  the  things  that  were  certain 
and  the  things  that  were  merely  probable.  The  one 
certainty  that  faced  him  from  every  angle  was  that 
Cleo  was  in  deadly  earnest  and  that  it  meant  a  fight  for 
the  supremacy  of  every  decent  instinct  of  his  life  and 
character. 

Apparently  she  had  planned  a  tragic  revenge  by  lur 
ing  the  girl  to  his  home,  figuring  on  his  absence  for 
three  months,  to  precipitate  a  love  affair  before  he 

259 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

could  know  the  truth  or  move  to  interfere.  A  strange 
mental  telepathy  had  warned  him  and  he  had  broken 
in  on  the  scene  two  months  before  he  was  expected. 

And  yet  he  couldn't  believe  that  Cleo  in  the  wildest 
flight  of  her  insane  rage  could  have  deliberately  meant 
that  such  an  affair  should  end  in  marriage.  She  knew 
the  character  of  both  father  and  son  too  well  to  doubt 
that  such  an  act  could  only  end  in  tragedy.  She  was 
too  cautious  for  such  madness. 

What  was  her  game? 

He  asked  himself  that  question  again  and  again,  al 
ways  to  come  back  to  one  conclusion.  She  had  cer 
tainly  brought  the  girl  into  the  house  to  force  from 
his  reluctant  lips  her  recognition  and  thus  fix  her  own 
grip  on  his  life.  Beyond  a  doubt  the  surest  way  to 
accomplish  this,  and  the  quickest,  was  by  a  love  affair 
between  the  boy  and  girl.  She  knew  that  personally 
the  father  had  rather  die  than  lose  the  respect  of  his 
son  by  a  confession  of  his  shame.  But  she  knew  with 
deeper  certainty  that  he  must  confess  it  if  their  wills 
once  clashed  over  the  choice  of  a  wife.  The  boy  had 
a  mind  of  his  own.  His  father  knew  it  and  respected 
and  loved  him  all  the  more  because  of  it. 

It  was  improbable  as  yet  that  Tom  had  spoken  a 
word  of  love  or  personally  faced  such  an  issue.  Of  the 
girl  he  could  only  form  the  vaguest  idea.  It  was  clear 
now  that  he  had  been  stricken  by  a  panic  and  that  the 
case  was  not  so  desperate  as  he  had  feared. 

One  thing  he  saw  with  increasing  clearness.  He  must 
move  with  the  utmost  caution.  He  must  avoid  Helen  at 
first  and  find  the  boy's  attitude.  He  must  at  all  haz 
ards  keep  the  use  of  every  power  of  body,  mind  and  soul 
in  the  crisis  with  which  he  was  confronted. 

260 


BEHIND   THE   EARS 


Two  hours  later  when  Andy  cautiously  approached 
his  door  and  listened  at  the  keyhole  he  was  still  pac 
ing  the  floor  with  the  nervous  tread  of  a  wounded  lion 
suddenly  torn  from  the  forest  and  thrust  behind  the 
bars  of  an  iron  cage* 


261 


CHAPTER  IX 

ANDY'S  DILEMMA 

ANDY  left  Norton's  door  and  rapped  softly  at  Tom's, 
tried  the  lock,  found  it  unfastened,  pushed  his  way 
quietly  inside  and  called : 

"Mister  Tom!" 

No  answer  came  from  the  bed  and  Andy  moved 
closer: 

"Mister  Tom — Mister  Tom !" 

"Ah — what's  the  matter  with  you — get  out!"  the 
sleeper  growled. 

The  negro  touched  the  boy's  shoulder  with  a  friendly 
shake,  whispering: 

"Yo'  Pa's  here!" 

Tom  sat  up  in  bed  rubbing  his  eyes : 

"What's  that?" 

"Yassah,  I  fotch  him  through  the  country  and  we 
rid  all  night " 

"What's  the  matter?' 

"Dat's  what  I  wants  ter  see  you  'bout,  sah — an'  ef 
you'll  des  slip  on  dem  clothes  an'  meet  me  in  de  liberry, 
we'll  hab  a  little  confab  an'  er  council  er  war " 

The  boy  picked  up  a  pillow  and  hurled  it  at  Andy: 

"Well,  get  out,  you  old  rascal,  and  I'll  be  down  in 
a  few  minutes." 

Andy  dodged  the  pillow  and  at  the  door  whis 
pered  : 

262 


ANDY'S  DILEMMA 


"Yassah,  an'  don't  disturb  de  major!  I  hopes  ter 
God  he  sleep  er  month  when  he  git  started." 

"All  right,  I  won't  disturb  him." 

Tom  dressed,  wondering  vaguely  what  had  brought 
his  father  home  at  such  an  unearthly  hour  and  by 
such  a  trip  across  the  country. 

Andy,  arrayed  in  a  suit  of  broadcloth  which  he  had 
appropriated  from  Norton's  wardrobe  in  his  absence, 
was  waiting  for  Tom  with  evident  impatience. 

"Now,  what  I  want  to  know  is,"  the  boy  began, 
"what  the  devil  you  mean  by  pulling  me  out  of  bed  this 
time  of  day?" 

Andy  chuckled: 

"Well,  yer  see,  sah,  de  major  git  home  kinder  sudden 
like  en'  I  wuz  jest  er  little  oneasy  'bout  dis  here  new 
suit  er  close  er  mine " 

"Well,  that's  not  the  first  suit  of  his  clothes  you've 
swiped — you  needn't  be  scared." 

"Scared — who  me?  Man,  I  ain't  er  skeered  er  yo' 
Pa." 

Minerva  banged  the  dining-room  door  and  Andy 
jumped  and  started  to  run.  Tom  laughed  and  seized 
his  arm: 

Oh,  don't  be  a  fool!     There's  no  danger." 

"Nasah — I  knows  dey's  no  danger — but" — he  glanced 
over  his  shoulder  to  be  sure  that  the  master  hadn't 
come  down  stairs — "but  yer  know  de  ole  sayin'  is  dat 
indiscretion  is  de  better  part  er  value " 

"I  see!"  Tom  smile«d  in  perfect  agreement. 

"An'  I  des  has  er  little  indiscretion " 

"Oh,  you  make  me  tired,  how  can  I  help  a  coward?" 

Andy  looked  grieved: 

"Lordy,  Mister  Tom — don't  say  dat,  sah.     I  ain't 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

no  coward — I'se  des  cautious.  Ye  know  I  wuz  in  dat 
f us'  battle  er  Bull's  Run  wid  de  ma j  or.  I  git  separated 
from  him  in  a  close  place  an'  hatter  move  my  head 
quarters.  Dey  said  I  wuz  er  coward  den  'cause  I 
run.  But  twan't  so,  sah !  Twan't  cause  I  wuz  er  cow 
ard.  I  knowed  zactly  what  I  wuz  doin'.  I  run  'cause 
I  didn't  hab  no  wings !  I  done  de  very  bes'  I  could  wid 
what  I  had.  An'  fuddermo',  sah,  de  fellers  dat  wuz 
whar  I  wuz  en'  didn't  run — dey's  all  dar  yit  at  Bull's 
Run !  Nasah,  I  ain't  no  coward.  I  des  got  de  indiscre 
tion " 

Another  door  slammed  and  Andy  dodged. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you  anyhow,  you  old  fool, 
are  you  having  fits?"  Tom  cried. 

Andy  looked  around  the  room  cautiously  and  took 
hold  of  the  boy's  coat: 

"You  listen  to  me,  Mister  Tom.  I'se  gwine  tell  yer 
somfin'  now " 

"Well?" 

"I    ain't    er   skeered    er   de   major — but   he's    dan- 


gous " 

"Bosh!" 

"Dey's  sumfin'  de  matter  wid  him !" 

"Had  a  few  mint  juleps  with  a  friend,  no  doubt." 

"Mint  juleps!  Huh!  He  kin  swim  in  'em — dive  in 
'em  an'  stay  down  er  whole  day  an'  never  come  up  ter 
blow  his  bref — licker  don't  faze  him!" 

"It's  politics.  He's  leading  this  devilish  campaign 
and  he's  worried  over  politics." 

"Nasah !"  Andy  protested  with  a  laugh.  "Dem  fool 
niggers  des  well  give  up — dey  ain't  gwine  ter  vote  no 
mo'.  De  odder  feller's  doin'  all  de  worryin'.  He  ain't 


264 


ANDY'S   DILEMMA 


"Yes,  he  is,  too,"  the  boy  replied.  "He  put  a  revolver 
in  his  pocket  when  he  started  on  that  trip." 

"Yassah!"  Andy  laughed.  "I  know,  but  yer  don't 
understand  Dat  pistol's  his  flatform !" 

"His  platform?" 

"You  ain'  hear  what  he  bin  er  doin'  wid  dat  pistol?" 

"No— what?" 

"Man  erlive,  yer  des  oughter  see  'im  yistiddy  when  I 
take  'im  dem  papers  ter  dat  speakin',  down  in  one  er 
dem  po'  white  counties  full  er  Radicals  dat  vote  wid 
niggers.  Er  Kermittee  comes  up  an'  say  dat  de  Inter 
nal  Constertooshion  er  de  Nunited  States  give  'em  free 
speech  an'  he  gwine  ter  hear  from  'em.  De  Lordy,  man, 
but  his  bristles  riz !  I  'lows  ter  myself,  folks  yer  sho  is 
thumpin'  de  wrong  watermillion  dis  time !" 

"And  what  did  he  say  to  the  Committee?" 

"I  nebber  hear  nary  word.  He  des  turn  'roun  an' 
step  up  on  dat  flatform,  kinder  peart  like,  an'  yer 
oughter  see  'im  open  dat  meetin'  " — Andy  paused  and 
broke  into  a  loud  laugh. 

"How  did  he  open  it?"  Tom  asked  with  indulgent 
interest. 

Andy  scratched  his  woolly  head: 

"Well,  sah,  hit  warn't  opened  wid  prayer — I  kin 
tell  ye  dat !  De  fust  thing  he  done,  he  reach  back  in 
his  britches,  kinder  kereless  lak,  an'  pull  dat  big  pistol 
an'  lay  hit  down  afore  him  on'  de  table  beside  his 
pitcher  er  lemonade.  Man,  you  oughter  see  de  eyes  er 
dat  crowd  er  dirty-lookin'  po'  whites!  Dey  fairly 
popped  outen  der  heads !  I  hump  myself  an'  move  out 
towards  de  outskirts " 

Tom  smiled: 

"I  bet  you  did!" 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"Oh,  I  didn't  run !"  Andy  protested. 

"Of  course  not — far  be  it  from  you!" 

"Nasah,  I  des  tucken  drawed  out " 

"I  understand,  just  a  little  caution,  so  to  speak!" 

"Yassah — dat's  hit !  Des  tucken  drawed  out,  whar 
I'd  have  elbow  room  in  de  mergency " 

"In  other  words,"  the  boy  interrupted,  "just  used  a 
little  indiscretion !" 

Andy  chuckled: 

"Yassah!  Dat's  hit!  Well,  sah,  he  pat  dat  pistol 
kinder  familious  like  an'  say:  'Ef  dey's  any  er  you 
lowlife  po'  white  scoundrels  here  ter-day  that  don't 
want  ter  hear  my  speech — git !  But  ef  yer  stay  an'  yer 
don't  feel  comfortable,  I  got  six  little  lead  pills  here 
in  a  box  dat'll  ease  yer  pain.  Walk  right  up  to  de 
prescription  counter !'  ' 

"And  they  walked  right  up?" 

"Well,  sah,  dey  didn't  crowd  up! — nasah!"  Andy 
paused  and  laughed  immoderately.  "An'  wid  dat  he 
des  folded  his  arms  an'  look  at  dat  crowd  er  minute  an* 
his  eyes  began  to  spit  fire.  When  I  see  dat,  I  feels  my 
very  shoes  commin'  ontied.  I  sez  ter  myself,  no*v  folks 
he's  gwine  ter  magnify " 

Tom  laughed: 

"Magnified,  did  he?" 

The  negro's  eyes  rolled  and  he  lifted  his  hands  in 
a  gesture  of  supreme  admiration: 

"De  Lordy,  man — ef  he  didn't !  He  lit  inter  dem  po' 
white  trash  lak  er  thousand  er  brick " 

"Give  'em  what  Paddy  gave  the  drum,  I  suppose?" 

"Now  yer  talkin',  honey !  Ef  he  didn't  give  'em  par 
ticular  hell!" 

"And  what  happened  ?" 


ANDY'S   DILEMMA 


"Nuttin'  happened,  chile — dat's  what  I'm  tryin'  ter 
tell  ye.  Nary  one  of  'em  nebber  cheeped.  Dey  des 
stood  dar  an'  listened  lak  er  passel  er  sheep-killin'  dogs. 
Lemme  tell  ye,  honey,  politics  ain't  er  worryin'  him. 
De  odder  fellers  doin'  all  de  worrin'.  Nasah,  dey's  sum- 
fin  else  de  matter  wid  de  major " 

"What?" 

Andy  looked  around  the  room  furtively  and  whis 
pered  : 

"Dar's  a  quare  look  in  his  eye !" 

"Ah,  pooh !" 

"Hit's  des  lak  I  tells  ye,  Mister  Tom.  I  ain't  seed  dat 
quare  look  in  his  eye  before  since  de  night  I  see  yo' 
Ma's  ghost  come  down.outen  dat  big  picture  frame  an' 
walk  cross  dis  hall " 

The  boy  smiled  and  looked  at  the  shining  yellow 
canvas  that  seemed  a  living  thing  gleaming  in  its  dark 
setting: 

"I  suppose,  of  course,  Andy,  you  really  saw  her  do 
that?" 

"  'Fore  God,  es  sho's  I'm  talkin'  ter  you  now,  she 
done  dat  thing — yassah !  Hit  wus  de  las'  year  befo'  you 
come  back  f rum  college.  De  moon  wuz  shinin'  froo  dem 
big  windows  right  on  her  face,  an'  I  seed  her  wid  my 
own  eyes,  all  of  a  sudden,  step  right  down  outen  dat 
picture  frame  an'  walk  across  dis  room,  huggin'  her 
baby  close  up  in  her  arms — an'  you'se  dat  very  baby, 
sah!" 

The  boy  was  interested  in  the  negro's  weird  recital 
in  spite  of  his  amusement.  He  shook  his  head  and  said 
laughingly : 

"Andy,  you've  got  the  heat " 

"Hit's  des  lak  I  tells  ye,  sah,"  Andy  solemnly  re- 

267 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

peated.     "I  stood  right  dar  by  dat  table  froze  in  my 
tracks,  till  I  seed  her  go  froo  dat  do'  widout  openin' 


"Bah  !"  Tom  cried  in  disgust. 

"Dat  she  did  !  —  an'  Miss  Minerva  she  see  her  do  dat 
same  thing  once  before  and  tell  me  about  it.  But  man 
erlive,  when  /  see  it,  I  let  off  one  er  dem  yells  dat  wuz 
hark  from  de  tomb  -  " 

"I  bet  you  did  !" 

"Yassah,  I  went  froo  dat  big  window  dar  an'  carry 
de  whole  sash  wid  me.  De  major  he  take  out  attcr  me 
when  he  hears  de  commotion,  an'  when  he  kotch  me 
down  dar  in  de  fiel'  I  wuz  still  wearin'  dat  sash  fer  a 
necktie  !" 

The  boy  laughed  again: 

"And  I  suppose,  of  course,  he  believed  all  you  told 
him?" 

The  negro  rolled  his  eyes  solemnly  to  the  ceiling  and 
nodded  his  head: 

"Dat  he  did,  sah.  When  I  fust  told  'im  dat  I  seed 
er  ghost,  he  laft  fit  ter  kill  hissef  -  " 

The  boy  nodded: 

"I  don't  doubt  it!" 

"But  mind  ye,"  Andy  solemnly  continued,  "when  I 
tells  him  what  kin'  er  ghost  I  seed,  he  nebber  crack 
anudder  smile.  He  nebber  open  his  mouf  ergin  fer  er 
whole  day.  An'  dis  here's  what  I  come  ter  tell  ye, 
honey  -  " 

He  paused  and  glanced  over  his  shoulder  as  if  mo 
mentarily  fearing  the  major's  appearance. 

"I  thought  you'd  been  telling  me?" 

"Nasah,  I  ain't  told  ye  nuttin'  yit.  When  I  say 
what  kine  er  ghost  I  see  —  dat  quare  look  come  in  his 

268 


ANDY'S   DILEMMA 


eye — de  same  look  dat  come  dar  yistiddy  when  I  tells 
'im  dat  Miss  Helen  wuz  here." 

The  boy  looked  at  Andy  with  a  sudden  start : 

"Ah,  how  could  that  sweet  little  girl  upset  him?  He's 
her  guardian's  attorney  and  sent  for  her  to  come,  of 
course " 

"I  don't  know  'bout  dat,  sah — all  I  know  is  dat  he 
went  wil'  es  quick  es  I  tells  'im,  an'  he  bin  wil'  ever  since, 
Mister  Tom,  I  ain't  skeered  er  de  major — but  he's  dan- 
gous !" 

"Ah,  Andy,  you're  the  biggest  fool  in  the  county," 
the  boy  answered  laughing.  "You  know  my  father 
wouldn't  touch  a  hair  of  your  kinky  head." 

Andy  grinned. 

"  'Cose  not,  Mister  Tom,"  he  said  with  unction. 
<;I  knows  dat.  But  all  de  same  I  gotter  keep  outen 
his  way  wid  dis  new  suit  er  close  till  I  see  'im 
smilin  ' " 

"Always  bearing  in  mind  that  indiscretion  is  the  bet 
ter  part  of  value !" 

"Yassah — yassah — dat's  hit — an'  I  wants  you  ter 
promise  you'll  stan'  by  me,  sah,  till  de  major's  in  a 
good  humor." 

"All  right;  if  you  need  me,  give  a  yell." 

Tom  turned  with  a  smile  to  go,  and  Andy  caught  his 
sleeve  and  laughed  again: 

"Wait — wait  er  minute,  Mister  Tom — hold  yer 
hosses.  Dey's  anodder  little  thing  I  wants  ye  ter  help 
me  out  erbout.  I  kin  manage  de  major  all  right  ef  I 
kin  des  keep  outen  his  sight  ter-day  wid  dis  suit  er 
clothes.  But  de  trouble  is,  I  got  ter  wear  'em,  sah — 
I  got  er  'pintment  wid  er  lady !" 

The  boy  turned  good-naturedly,  threw  his  leg  over 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

the  corner  of  the  table  and  raised  his  eyebrows  with  a 
gleam  of  mischief: 

"Oh,  a  lady !    Who  is  she?    Aunt  Minerva?" 

Andy  waved  his  hands  in  disgust. 

"Dat's  des  de  one  hit  ain't — nasah !  I  can't  stan'  her 
nohow,  Mr.  Tom.  I  des  natchally  can't  stan'  er  fat 
'oman !  An'  Miss  Minerva  weighs  'bout  three  hun 
dred " 

"Oh,  not  so  bad  as  that,  Andy !" 

"Yassah,  she's  er  whale!  Man,  ef  we  wuz  walkin' 
along  tergedder,  en  she  wuz  ter  slip  an'  fall  she'd  sqush 
de  life  outen  me!  I'd  nebber  know  what  hit  me.  An' 
what  makes  bad  matters  wus,  I'se  er  strong  suspicion 
dat  she  got  her  eyes  sot  on  me  here  lately — I  des  feels 
it  in  my  bones — she's  atter  me  sho,  sah." 

Tom  broke  into  a  laugh: 

"Well,  she  can't  take  you  by  force." 

"I  don't  know  'bout  dat,  sah.  When  any  'oman 
gits  her  min'  sot  she's  dangous.  But  when  a  'oman  big 
an'  black  es  she  make  up  her  min' !" 

"Black!"  Tom  cried,  squaring  himself  and  looking 
Andy  over:  "Aren't  you  just  a  little  shady?" 

"Who?   Me?— nasah!  I  ain't  no  black  nigger!" 

"No?" 

"Nasah !    I'se  what  dey  calls  er  tantalizin'  brown !" 

"Oh,  I  see!" 

"Yassah,  I'se  er  chocolate-colored  gemman — an'  I 
nebber  could  stan'  dese  here  coal-black  niggers.  Miss 
Minerva's  so  black  she  kin  spit  ink !" 

"And  she's  'atter'  you?" 

"Yassah,  an'  Miss  Minerva's  a  widder  'oman,  an'  ye 
know  de  Scripter  says,  'Beware  of  widders' " 

"Of  course!"  Tom  agreed. 
270 


ANDY'S   DILEMMA 


"I'se  er  gemman,  yer  know,  Mister  Tom.  I  can't 
insult  er  lady,  an'  dat's  de  particular  reason  dat  I 
wants  ter  percipitate  mysef  wid  my  true  love  before 
dat  big,  black  'oman  gits  her  hands  on  me.  She's  atter 
me  sho,  an'  ef  she  gits  me  in  er  close  place,  what  I 
gwine  do,  sah?" 

Tom  assumed  a  judicial  attitude,  folded  his  arms  and 
asked : 

"Well,  who's  the  other  one? — who's  your  true  love?" 

Andy  put  his  hand  over  his  mouth  to  suppress  a 
snicker : 

"Now  dat's  whar  I  kinder  hesitates,  sah.  I  bin  er 
beatin'  de  debbil  roun'  de  stump  fur  de  pas'  week  tryin' 
ter  screw  up  my  courage  ter  ax  ye  ter  help  me.  But 
Mister  Tom,  you  gettin'  so  big  an'  dignified  I  kinder 
skeered.  You  got  ter  puttin'  on  more  airs  dan  de 
major " 

"Ah,  who  is  she?"  the  boy  asked  brusquely. 

Andy  glanced  at  him  out  of  the  corners  of  his  rolling 
eyes: 

"Yer  ain't  gwine  laugh  at  me — is  yer?" 

With  an  effort  Tom  kept  his  face  straight: 

"No,  I  may  be  just  as  big  a  fool  some  day  myself — 
who  is  she?" 

Andy  stepped  close  and  whispered: 

"Miss  Cleo!" 

"Cleo " 

"Yassah." 

"Well,  you  are  a  fool!"  the  boy  exclaimed  indig 
nantly. 

"Yassah,  I  spec  I  is,"  Andy  answered,  crestfallen, 
"but  I  des  can't  hep  it,  sah." 

"Cleo,  my  nurse,  my  mammy — why,  she  wouldn't  wipe 
271 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

her  foot  on  you  if  you  were  a  door-mat.  She's  almost 
as  white  as  I  am." 

"Yassah,  I  know,  an'  dat's  what  make  me  want  her 
so.  She's  mine  ef  I  kin  git  her!  Hit  des  takes  one 
drap  er  black  blood  to  make  er  nigger,  sah." 

"Bah — she  wouldn't  look  at  you !" 

"I  know  she  holds  er  high  head,  sah.  She's  been 
eddicated  an'  all  dat — but  you  listen  ter  me,  honey — 
she  gwine  look  at  me  all  de  same,  when  I  say  de 
word." 

"Yes,  long  enough  to  laugh." 

Andy  disregarded  the  shot,  and  prinked  himself  be 
fore  the  mirror: 

"Don't  yer  think  my  complexion's  gettin'  little  bet 
ter,  sah?" 

Tom  picked  up  a  book  with  a  smile: 

"You  do  look  a  little  pale  to-day,  but  I  think  that's 
your  liver!" 

Andy  broke  into  a  laugh : 

"Nasah.     Dat  ain't  my  liver!" 

"Must  be!" 

"Nasah!  I  got  er  patent  bleacher  frum  New  York 
dat's  gwine  ter  make  me  white  ef  I  kin  des  buy  enough 
of  it." 

"How  much  have  you  used?" 

"Hain't  used  but  six  bottles  yit.  Hit  costs  three 
dollars  a  bottle" — he  paused  and  rubbed  his  hands 
smoothingly  over  his  head.  "Don't  yer  think  my  hair's 
gittin'  straighter,  sah?" 

Tom  turned  another  page  of  the  book  without  look 
ing  up : 

"Not  so  that  you  could  notice  it." 

"Yassah,  'tis!"  Andy  laughed,  eyeing  it  sideways  in 

272 


ANDY'S   DILEMMA 


the  mirror  and  making  a  vain  effort  to  see  the  back  of 
his  head.  "I'se  er  usin'  er  concoction  called  'Not-a- 
Kink.'  Hit  costs  five  dollars  a  bottle — but  man,  hit 
sho  is  doin'  de  work!  I  kin  des  feel  dem  kinks  slippin' 
right  out." 

"There's  nothing  much  the  matter  with  your  hair, 
Andy,"  Tom  said,  looking  up  with  a  smile,  "that's  the 
straightest  thing  about  you.  The  trouble's  inside." 

"What  de  matter  wid  me  inside?" 

"You're  crooked." 

"Who — me?"  Andy  cried.  "Ah,  go  long,  Mister 
Tom,  wid  yer  projectin' — yer  des  foolin'  wid  me" — he 
came  close  and  busied  himself  brushing  the  boy's  coat 
and  continued  with  insinuating  unction — "now  ef  yer 
des  put  in  one  little  word  fer  me  wid  Miss  Cleo " 

"Take  my  advice,  Andy,"  the  boy  said  seriously, 
"keep  away  from  her — she'll  kill  you." 

"Not  ef  you  help  me  out,  sah,"  Andy  urged  eagerly. 
"She'll  do  anything  fer  you,  Mister  Tom — she  lubs  de 
very  ground  you  walks  on — des  put  in  one  little  word 
fer  me,  sah " 

Tom  shook  his  head  emphatically: 

"Can't  do  it,  Andy !" 

"Don't  say  dat,  Mister  Tom!" 

"Can't  do  it." 

Andy  flicked  imaginary  lint  from  both  sleeves  of 
Tom's  coat: 

"Now  look  here,  Mister  Tom " 

The  boy  turned  away  protesting : 

"No,  I  can't  do  it." 

"Lordy,  Mister  Tom,"  Andy  cried  in  grieved  tones. 
"You  ain't  gwine  back  on  me  like  dat  des  'cose  yer  went 
ter  college  up  dar  in  de  Norf  an'  git  mixed  up  wid 

273 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

Yankee  notions !    Why,  you  an'  me's  always  been  good 
friends  an'  partners.    What  ye  got  agin  me?" 

A  gleam  of  mischief  slipped  into  the  boy's  eyes  again 
as  he  folded  his  arms  with  mock  severity: 

"To  begin  with,  you're  the  biggest  old  liar  in  the 
United  States " 

"Lordy,  Mister  Tom,  I  nebber  tell  a  lie  in  my  life, 
sah!" 

"Andy— Andy!" 

The  negro  held  his  face  straight  for  a  moment  and 
then  broke  into  a  laugh : 

"Well,  sah,  I  may  has  pre-var-i-cated  some  times,  but 
dat  ain't  lyin' — why,  all  gemmens  do  dat." 

"And  look  at  this  suit  of  clothes,"  Tom  said  severely, 
"that  you've  just  swiped  from  Dad.  You'd  steal  any 
thing  you  can  get  your  hands  on !" 

Andy  turned  away  and  spoke  with  deep  grief 

"Mister  Tom,  you  sho  do  hurt  my  feelin's,  sah — I 
nebber  steal  nuttin'  in  my  life." 

"I've  known  you  to  steal  a  palm-leaf  fan  in  the  dead 
of  winter  with  snow  on  the  ground." 

Andy  laughed  uproariously : 

"Why,  man,  dat  ain't  stealin !  Who  gwine  ter  want 
er  palm-leaf  fan  wid  snow  on  de  groun'? — dat's  des 
findin'  things.  You  know  dey  calls  me  Hones'  Andy. 
When  dey  ketch  me  wid  de  goods  I  nebber  try  ter  lie 
outen  it  lak  some  fool  niggers.  I  des  laugh,  'fess  right 
up,  an'  hit's  all  right.  Dat's  what  make  'em  call  me 
Hones'  Andy,  cose  I  always  knows  dat  honesty's  de  bes' 
policy — an'  here  you  comes  callin'  me  a  thief — Lordee, 
Mister  Tom,  yer  sho  do  hurt  my  feelin's !" 

The  boy  shook  his  head  again  and  frowned: 

"You're  a  hopeless  old  sinner " 

274 


ANDY'S   DILEMMA 


"Who,  me,  er  sinner?  Why,  man  erlive,  I'se  er  pillar 
in  de  church !" 

"God  save  the  church!" 

"I  mebbe  backslide  a  little,  sah,  in  de  winter  time," 
Andy  hastened  to  admit.  "But  I'se  always  de  fus'  man 
to  de  mourners'  bench  in  de  spring.  I  mos'  generally 
leads  de  mourners,  sah,  an'  when  I  comes  froo  an'  gits 
religion  over  again,  yer  kin  hear  me  shout  er  mile " 

"And  I  bet  when  the  chickens  hear  it  they  roost 
higher  the  next  night!" 

Andy  ignored  the  thrust  and  went  on  enthusiastically : 

"Nasah,  de  church  folks  don't  call  me  no  sinner. 
I  always  stands  up  fer  religion.  Don't  yer  min'  de 
time  dat  big  yaller  nigger  cum  down  here  from  de  Norf 
er  castin'  circumflexions  on  our  church?  I  wuz  de  man 
dat  stood  right  up  in  de  meetin'  an'  defends  de  cause 
er  de  Lawd.  I  haul  off  an'  biff  'im  right  in  the 
jaw " 

"And  you're  going  to  ask  Cleo  to  marry  you?" 

"I  sho'  is,  sah." 

"Haven't  you  a  wife  living,  Andy?"  the  boy  asked 
carelessly. 

The  whites  of  the  negro's  eyes  suddenly  shone  as 
he  rolled  them  in  the  opposite  direction.  He  scratched 
his  head  and  turned  back  to  his  friendly  tormentor  with 
unction : 

"Mr.  Tom,  I'm  gwine  ter  be  hones' — cose  honesty  is 
de  bes'  policy.  I  did  marry  a  lady,  sah,  but  dat  wuz  er 
long  time  ergo.  She  run  away  an'  lef  me  an'  git  married 
ergin  an'  I  divorced  her,  sah.  She  don't  pester  me  no 
mo'  an'  I  don't  pester  her.  Hit  warn't  my  fault,  sah, 
an'  I  des  put  her  away  ez  de  Bible  sez.  Ain't  dat  all 
right,  sah?" 

275 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

"Well,  it's  hardly  legal  to-day,  though  it  may  have 
been  a  Biblical  custom." 

"Yassah,  but  dat's  nuttin'  ter  do  wid  niggers.  De 
white  folks  make  de  laws  an'  dey  hatter  go  by  'em. 
But  niggers  is  niggers,  yer  know  dat  yosef,  sah." 

Tom  broke  into  a  laugh: 

"Andy,  you  certainly  are  a  bird!" 

The  negro  joined  in  the  laugh  with  a  joyous  chuckle 
at  its  close: 

"Yassah,  yassah — one  er  dese  here  great  big  brown 
blackbirds !  But,  Lordy,  Mister  Tom,  yer  des  foolin' 
wid  me — yer  ain't  got  nuttin'  'gin  yer  ole  partner,  bar- 
rin'  dem  few  little  things?" 

"No,  barring  the  few  things  I've  mentioned,  that 
you're  a  lazy,  lying,  impudent  old  rascal — barring  these 
few  little  things — why — otherwise  you're  all  right, 
Andy,  you're  all  right!" 

The  negro   chuckled  joyfully: 

"Yassah — yassah !  I  knowed  yer  warn't  gwine  back 
on  me,  Mister  Tom."  He  edged  close  and  dropped 
his  voice  to  the  oiliest  whisper:  "You'll  say  dat  good 
word  now  to  Miss  Cleo  right  away,  sah?" 

The  boy  shook  his  head: 

"The  only  thing  I'll  agree  to  do,  Andy,  is  to  stand 
by  and  see  you  commit  suicide.  If  it's  any  comfort 
to  you,  I'll  tell  you  that  she'll  kill  you." 

"Nasah!  Don't  yer  believe  it.  Ef  I  kin  des  escape 
dat  fat  'oman  wid  my  life  before  she  gits  me — now 
dat  you'se  on  my  side  I  kin  read  my  titles  clar " 

"Oh,  you  can  get  rid  of  Minerva  all  right !" 

"For  de  Lord  sake,  des  tell  me  how!" 

Tom  bent  toward  him  and  spoke  in  low  tones: 

"All  you've  got  to  do  if  Minerva  gets  you  in  a  tight 
276 


ANDY'S   DILEMMA 


place  is  to  confess  your  real  love  arid  ask  her  to  help 
you  out  as  a  friend." 

Andy  looked  puzzled  a  moment  and  then  a  light  broke 
over  his  dusky  face: 

"Dat's  a  fine  plan,  Mister  Tom.     You  saved  er  nig 
ger's  life— I'll  do  dat  sho !" 

"As  for  Cleo,  I  can't  do  anything  for  you,  but  I 
won't  do  anything  against  you." 
"Thankee,  sah !   Thankee,  sah ! 
When  Tom  reached  the  door  he  paused  and  said : 
"I    might   consent   to   consult   with   the   undertaker 
about  the  funeral  and  act  as  one  of  your  pall-bearers." 
Andy  waved  him  away  with  a  suppressed  laugh: 
"G'way  f rum  here,  Mister  Tom !   G'way  f rum  here !" 
The  negro  returned  to  the  mirror,  adjusted  his  suit 
and  after  much  effort  succeeded  in  fixing  a  new  scarfpin 
of  a  horseshoe  design  in  the  centre  of  the  bow  of  one  of 
Norton's  old-fashioned  black  string  ties.    He  dusted  his 
shoes,  smoothed  as  many  of  the  kinks  out  of  his  hair  as 
a  vigorous  rubbing  could  accomplish,  and  put  the  last 
touches   on  his   elaborate  preparations   for  a  meeting 
with  Cleo  that  was  destined  to  be  a  memorable  one  in 
her  life. 


277 


CHAPTER  X 

THE    BEST   LAID    PLANS 

ANDY'S  plans  for  a  speedy  conquest  of  Cleo  were 
destined  to  an  interruption.  Minerva  had  decided  that 
he  was  the  best  man  in  sight  for  a  husband,  and  made 
up  her  mind  to  claim  her  own.  She  had  noticed  of 
late  a  disposition  on  his  part  to  dally  with  Cleo,  and 
determined  to  act  immediately.  Breakfast  was  well 
under  way  and  she  had  heard  Andy's  unctous  laugh  in 
the  library  with  Tom. 

She  put  on  her  sweeping  apron,  took  up  a  broom 
and  entered  under  the  pretense  of  cleaning  the  room. 

Andy  was  still  chuckling  with  joy  over  the  brilliant 
plan  of  escape  suggested  by  Tom.  He  had  just  put 
the  finishing  touches  on  his  necktie,  and  was  trying  on  an 
old  silk  hat  when  Minerva's  voice  caused  him  to  sud 
denly  collapse. 

"Say,  man,  is  dat  a  hat  er  a  bee-gum?"  she  cried, 
with  a  laugh  so  jolly  it  would  have  been  contagious 
but  for  Andy's  terror. 

He  looked  at  her,  dropped  the  hat,  picked  it  up  and 
stammered : 

"W-w-why — Miss  Minerva,  is  dat  you?" 

Minerva  beamed  on  him  tenderly,  placed  her 
broom  in  the  corner  and  advanced  quickly  to  meet 
him: 

"I  knowed  ye  wuz  'spectin  me  frum  de  way  yer  wuz 

278 


THE  BEST  LAID  PLANS 

gettin'   ready."      She  laughed  and   chuckled  with   ob 
vious  coquetry,  adding  coyly: 

"I  knows  how  yer  feel " 

Andy  looked  for  a  way  of  escape.  But  Minerva  was 
too  quick  for  him.  She  was  a  woman  of  enormous  size, 
fat,  jolly  and  extremely  agile  for  her  weight.  She 
carried  her  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  without  ap 
parent  effort.  She  walked  with  a  nervous,  snappy 
energy  and  could  waltz  with  the  grace  of  a  girl  of 
sixteen. 

She  had  reached  Andy's  side  before  his  dull  brain 
could  think  of  an  excuse  for  going.  Her  shining  coal- 
black  face  was  aglow  with  tenderness  and  the  determina 
tion  to  make  things  easy  for  him  in  the  declaration  of 
love  she  had  planned  that  he  should  make. 

"I  know  how  yer  feels,  Brer  Andy,"  she  repeated. 

The  victim  mopped  his  perspiring  brow  and  stam 
mered  : 

"Yassam — yassam." 

"Yer  needn't  be  so  'barrassed,  Mr.  Andy,"  Minerva 
went  on  in  the  most  insinuating  tones.  "Yer  kin  say 
what's  on  yer  mind." 

"Yassam." 

"Come  right  here  and  set  down  er  minute." 

She  seized  his  hand  and  drew  him  with  a  kittenish 
skip  toward  a  settee,  tripped  on  a  bear  rug  and  would 
have  fallen  had  not  Andy  grabbed  her. 

"De  Lord  save  us !"  he  gasped.  He  was  trying  des 
perately  in  his  new  suit  to  play  the  gentleman  under 
difficulties. 

Minerva  was  in  ecstasy  over  his  gallantry: 

"Yer  sho  wuz  terrified  less  I  git  hurt,  Mr.  Andy,'* 
she  laughed.  "I  thought  dat  bar  had  me  sho." 

279 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

Andy  mopped  his  brow  again  and  glanced  longingly 
at  the  door: 

"Yassam,  I  sho  wuz  terrified — I'm  sorry  m'am,  you'll 
hatter  'scuse  me.  Mister  Tom's  out  dar  waitin'  fer 
me,  an'  I  hatter  go " 

Minerva  smilingly  but  firmly  pulled  him  down  on 
the  seat  beside  her: 

"Set  right  down,  Mr.  Andy,  an'  make  yoself  at  home. 
We  got  er  whole  half  hour  yet  'fore  de  odder  folks 
come  down  stairs.  Man,  don't  be  so  'barrassed!  I 
knows  'zactly  how  yer  feels.  I  understand  what's  de 
matter  wid  yer" — she  paused,  glanced  at  him  out  ©f 
the  corners  of  her  eye,  touched  him  slyly  with  her  el 
bow,  and  whispered: 

"Why  don't  yer  say  what's  on  yer  mind?" 

Andy  cleared  his  throat  and  began  to  stammer.  He 
had  the  habit  of  stammering  under  excitement,  aud 
Tom's  plan  of  escape  had  just  popped  into  his  be 
numbed  brain.  He  saw  the  way  out: 

"Y-y-yas'm — cose,  m'am.  I  got  sumfin  ter  tell  ye, 
Miss  M-m-Minerva." 

Minerva  moved  a  little  closer. 

"Yas,  honey,  I  knows  what  'tis,  but  I'se  jes'  waitin' 
ter  hear  it." 

He  cleared  his  throat  and  tried  to  begin  his  speech 
in  a  friendly  business-like  way: 

"Yassam,  I  gwine  tell  yer  sho " 

He  turned  to  face  her  and  to  his  horror  found  her 
Hps  so  close  she  had  evidently  placed  them  in  position 
for  the  first  kiss. 

He  stopped  appalled,  fidgeted,  looked  the  other  way 
and  stammered: 

"H-hit  sho  is  powful  warm  ter-day,  m'am!" 
280 


THE  BEST  LAID  PLANS 

"Tain't  so  much  de  heat,  Brer  Andy,"  she  responded 
tenderly,  "as  'tis  de  humility  dat's  in  de  air !" 

lAndy  turned,  looked  into  her  smiling  face  for  a  mo 
ment  and  they  both  broke  into  a  loud  laugh  while  he 
repeated : 

crYassam,  de  humility — dat's  hit!  De  humility  dat's 
in  de  air!" 

The  expression  had  caught  his  fancy  enormously. 

"Yassir,  de  humility — dat's  hit !"  Minerva  murmured. 

When  the  laughter  had  slowly  died  down  she  moved 
a  little  closer  and  said  reassuringly : 

"And  now,  Brer  Andy,  ez  dey's  des  you  an'  me  here 
tergedder — ef  hits  suits  yo'  circumstantial  convenience, 
hab  no  reprehenshun,  sah,  des  say  what's  on  yo* 
min'." 

Andy  glanced  at  her  quickly,  bowed  grandiloquently 
and  catching  the  spirit  of  her  high-flown  language  de 
cided  to  spring  his  confession  and  ask  her  help  to  win 
Cleo. 

"Yassam,  Miss  Minerva,  dat's  so.  An'  ez  I  allays 
sez  dat  honesty  is  de  bes'  policy,  I'se  gwine  ter  re-cede 
ter  yo'  invitation!" 

Minerva  laughed  with  joyous  admiration: 

"Des  listen  at  dat  nigger  now !  You  sho  is  er  talkin' 
man  when  yer  gits  started " 

"Yassam,  I  bin  er  tryin'  ter  tell  ye  fer  de  longest 
kind  er  time  an'  ax  ye  ter  help  me " 

Minerva  moved  her  massive  figure  close  against  him: 

"Cose  I  help  you." 

Andy  edged  as  far  away  as  possible,  but  the  arm  of 
the  settee  had  caught  him  and  he  couldn't  get  far. 
He  smiled  wanly  and  tried  to  assume  a  purely  platonic 
tone: 

281 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"Wuz  yer  ebber  in  love,  Miss  Minerva?" 

Minerva  nudged  him  slyly: 

"Wuz  I?" 

Andy  tried  to  ignore  the  hint,  lifted  his  eyes  to  the 
ceiling  and  in  far-away  tones  put  the  hypothetical  case 
of  the  friend  who  needed  help: 

"Well,  des  'spose  m'am  dat  a  po'  man  wuz  ter  fall 
in  love  wid  er  beautiful  lady,  fur  above  him,  wid  eyes 
dat  shine  lak  de  stars " 

"Oh,  g'way  frum  here,  man !"  Minerva  cried  en 
tranced  as  she  broke  into  a  peal  of  joyous  laughter, 
nudging  him  again. 

The  insinuating  touch  of  her  elbow  brought  Andy 
to  a  sharp  realization  that  his  plan  had  not  only  failed 
to  work,  but  was  about  to  compromise  him  beyond  hope. 
He  hurried  to  correct  her  mistake. 

"But  listen,  Miss  Minerva — yer  don't  understand. 
Would  yer  be  his  friend  an'  help  him  to  win  her?" 

With  a  cry  of  joy  she  threw  her  huge  arms  around 
his  neck: 

"Would  I — Lordy — man !" 

Andy  tried  to  dodge  her  strangle  hold,  but  was  too 
slow  and  she  had  him. 

He  struggled  and  grasped  her  arms,  but  she  laughed 
and  held  on. 

"B-b-but — yer — yer,"  he  stammered. 

"Yer  needn't  say  annudder  word " 

"Yassam,  but  wait  des  er  minute,"  he  pleaded,  strug 
gling  to  lower  her  arms. 

"Hush,  man,"  Minerva  said  good-naturedly.  "Cose 
I  knows  yer  bin  er  bad  nigger — but  ye  needn't  tell  me 
'bout  it  now " 

"For  Gawd's  sake!"  Andy  gasped,  wrenching  her 
282 


THE  BEST  LAID  PLANS 

arms  away  at  last,  "will  yer  des  lemme  say  one  word?" 

"Nasah!"  she  said  generously.  "I  ain't  gwine  ter 
let  ye  say  no  harsh  words  ergin  yoself.  I  sho  do  ad 
mire  de  indelicate  way  dat  yer  tells  me  of  yo'  love!" 

"B-but  yer  don't  understand " 

"Cose  I  does,  chile!"  Minerva  exclaimed  with  a  ten 
der  smile. 

Andy  made  a  gesture  of  despair: 

"B-b-but  I  tries  ter  'splain " 

"Yer  don't  hatter  'splain  nuttin'  ter  me,  man — I 
ain't  no  spring  chicken — I  knowed  what  ye  means  befo5 
ye  opens  yer  mouf.  Yer  tells  me  dat  ye  lubs  me  an' 
I  done  say  dat  I  lubs  you — an'  dat's  all  dey  is  to 
it." 

Minerva  enfolded  him  in  her  ample  arms  and  he  col 
lapsed  with  feeble  assent: 

"Yassam — yassam." 


283 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  RECONNOITRE 

NORTON  slept  at  last  from  sheer  physical  exhaustion 
and  waked  at  eleven  o'clock  refreshed  and  alert,  his 
faculties  again  strung  for  action. 

He  wondered  in  the  clear  light  of  noon  at  the  folly 
of  his  panic  the  night  before.  The  fighting  instinct  in 
him  had  always  been  the  dominant  one.  He  smiled  now 
at  his  silly  collapse  and  his  quick  brain  began  to  plan 
his  line  of  defense. 

The  girl  was  in  his  house,  yes.  But  she  had  been  here 
in  spirit,  a  living,  breathing  threat  over  his  life,  every 
moment  the  past  twenty  years.  No  scene  of  pain  or 
struggle  could  come  but  that  he  had  already  lived  it  a 
thousand  times.  There  was  a  kind  of  relief  in  facing 
these  phantoms  for  the  first  time  in  flesh  and  blood. 
They  couldn't  be  more  formidable  than  the  ghosts  he 
had  fought. 

He  shaved  and  dressed  with  deliberation — dressed 
with  unusual  care — his  brain  on  fire  now  with  the  de 
termination  to  fight  and  win.  The  instincts  of  the  sol 
dier  were  again  in  command.  And  the  first  thing  a 
true  soldier  did  when  driven  to  desperation  and  sur 
rounded  by  an  overwhelming  foe  was  to  reconnoitre, 
find  the  strength  of  his  enemy,  and  strike  at  their  weak 
est  spot. 

He  must  avoid  Cleo  and  find  the  exact  situation  of 
284 


A  RECONNOITRE 


Tom  and  Helen.  His  safest  way  was  again  to  cultivate 
Andy's  knowledge  of  the  house  in  his  absence. 

He  rang  for  him  and  waited  in  vain  for  his  appear 
ance.  He  rang  again  and,  getting  no  response,  walked 
down  stairs  to  the  door  and  searched  the  lawn.  He 
saw  Cleo  beside  a  flower  bed  talking  to  Helen.  He 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  lovely  young  face  as  she  lifted 
her  eyes  and  saw  him.  He  turned  back  quickly  into 
the  house  to  avoid  her,  and  hurried  to  the  library. 

Andy  had  been  watching  carefully  until  Norton  went 
through  the  front  door.  Sure  that  he  had  strolled  out 
on  the  lawn  to  see  Helen,  with  a  sigh  of  relief  the  negro 
hurried  back  to  the  mirror  to  take  another  admiring 
glance  at  his  fine  appearance  in  the  new  suit. 

Norton's  sudden  entrance  completely  upset  him.  He 
tried  to  laugh  and  the  effort  froze  on  his  lips.  He  saw 
that  Norton  had  recognized  the  stolen  suit,  but  was  too 
excited  to  see  the  amusement  lurking  behind  his 
frown : 

"Where  were  you  a  while  ago,  when  I  was  calling?" 

"I  been  right  here  all  mornin',  sah,"  Andy  answered 
with  forced  surprise. 

"You  didn't  hear  that  bell?" 

"Nasah,  nebber  hear  a  thing,  sah." 

Norton  looked  at  him  severely: 

"There's  a  bigger  bell  going  {.</  ring  for  you  one  of 
these  days.  You  like  to  go  to  funerals^  don't  you?" 

Andy  laughed: 

"Yassah — odder  folk's  funerals — but  dey's  one  I  ain't 
in  no  hurry  to  git  to " 

"That's  the  one — where  were  you  when  I  rang  just 
now?" 

The  negro   looked  at  his  master,  hesitated,   and  a 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

broad  grin  overspread  his  black  face.     He  bowed  and 
chuckled  and  walked  straight  up  to  Norton: 

"Yassah,  major,  I  gwine  tell  yer  de  honest  truf  now, 
cose  honesty  is  de  bes'  policy.  I  wuz  des  embellishin' 
mysef  wid  dis  here  ole  suit  er  close  dat  ye  gimme,  sah, 
an'  I  wants  ter  specify  my  'preciation,  sah,  at  de  gener 
osity  wid  which  yer  always  treats  me,  sah.  I  had  a  mos' 
particular  reason  fer  puttin'  dis  suit  on  dis 


Norton  examined  the  lapel  of  the  coat,  his  lips 
twitching  to  suppress  a  smile : 

"My  suit  of  broadcloth " 

Andy  rubbed  his  hands  over  the  coat  in  profound 
amazement : 

"Is  dis  de  broadcloth?     De  Lawd  er  mussy!" 

Norton  shook  his  head: 

"You  old  black  hound " 

Andy  broke  into  a  loud  laugh: 

"Yassah,  yassah!  Dat's  me.  But,  major,  I  couldn't 
find  the  vest!" 

"Too  bad — shall  I  get  it  for  you?" 

"Nasah — des  tell  me  whar  yer  put  it !" 

Norton  smiled: 

"Did  you  look  in  my  big  cedar  box?" 

"Thankee,  sah — thankee,  sah.  Yer  sho  is  good 
ter  me,  major,  an'  yer  can  always  'pend  on  me, 
sah." 

"Yes,  I'm  going  to  send  you  to  the  penitentiary  for 
this " 

Andy  roared  with  laughter: 

"Yassah — yassah — cose,  sah !  I  kin  see  myse'f  in  dat 
suit  er  stripes  now,  but  I  sho  is  gwine  ter  blossom  out 
in  dat  double-breasted  vest  fust !" 

286 


A  RECONNOITRE 


When  the  laughter  had  died  away  Norton  asked  in 
good-natured  tones: 

"You  say  I  can  depend  on  you,  Andy?" 

"Dat  yer  kin,  sah — every  day  in  the  year — you'se  de 
bes  frien'  I  ebber  had  in  de  world,  sah." 

"Then  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question." 

"Yassah,  I  tells  yer  anything  I  know,  sah." 

"I'm  just  a  little  worried  about  Tom.  He's  too 
young  to  get  married.  Do  you  think  he's  been  really 
making  love  to  Miss  Helen?" 

Norton  watched  the  negro  keenly.  He  knew  that  a 
boy  would  easily  trust  his  secrets  to  such  a  servant, 
and  that  his  sense  of  loyalty  to  the  young  would  be 
strong.  He  was  relieved  at  the  quick  reply  which  came 
without  guile: 

"Lawdy,  major,  he  ain't  got  dat  far,  sah.  I  bin  er 
watchin'  'em  putty  close.  He  des  kinder  skimmin' 
'round  de  edges." 

"You  think  so?" 

"Yassah!"  was  the  confident  reply.  "He  'minds  me 
er  one  er  dese  here  minnows  when  ye  go  fishin'.  He 
ain't  swallowed  de  hook  yit — he  des  nibblin'." 

Norton  smiled,  lighted  a  cigar,  and  quietly  said : 

"Go  down  to  the  office  and  tell  Mr.  Tom  that  I'm  up 
and  wish  to  see  him." 

"Yassah — yassah — right  away,   sah." 

Andy  bowed  and  grinned  and  hurried  from  the  house. 

Norton  seated  himself  in  an  armchair  facing  the  por 
trait  of  the  little  mother.  His  memory  lingered  ten 
derly  over  the  last  beautiful  days  they  had  spent  to 
gether.  He  recalled  every  smile  with  which  she  had 
looked  her  forgiveness  and  her  love.  He  felt  the  pres 
ence  of  her  spirit  and  took  courage. 

287 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

He  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  sweet,  tender  face  bending 
over  her  baby  and  breathed  a  prayer  for  guidance.  He 
wondered  if  she  could  see  and  know  in  the  dim  world 
beyond.  Without  trying  to  reason  about  it,  he  had 
grown  to  believe  that  she  did,  and  that  her  soul  was 
near  in  this  hour  of  his  trial. 

How  like  this  mother  the  boy  had  grown  the  past 
year — just  her  age  when  he  was  born.  The  color  of  his 
blonde  hair  was  almost  an  exact  reproduction  of  hers. 
And  this  beautiful  hair  lent  a  peculiar  distinction  to 
the  boy's  fine  face.  He  had  developed,  too,  a  lot  of 
little  ways  strikingly  like  the  mother's  when  a  laughing 
school  girl.  He  smiled  in  the  same  flashing  way,  like  a 
sudden -burst  of  sunlight  from  behind  a  cloud.  His 
temper  was  quick  like  hers,  and  his  voice  more  and  more 
seemed  to  develop  the  peculiar  tones  he  had  loved. 

That  this  boy,  around  whose  form  every  desire  of 
life  had  centered,  should  be  in  peril  was  a  thought  that 
set  his  heart  to  beating  with  new  energy. 

He  heard  his  quick  step  in  the  hall,  rose  and  laid 
down  his  cigar.  With  a  rush  Tom  was  in  the  room 
grasping  the  outstretched  hand : 

"Glad  to  see  you  back,  Dad !"  he  cried,  "but  we  had 
/no  idea  you  were  coming  so  soon." 

"I  got  a  little  homesick,"  the  father  replied,  "and 
decided  to  come  in  for  a  day  or  two." 

"I  was  awfully  surprised  at  Miss  Helen's  popping  in 
on  us  so  unexpectedly — I  suppose  you  forgot  to  tell 
me  about  it  in  the  rush  of  getting  away." 

"I  really  didn't  expect  her  to  come  before  my  re 
turn,"  was  the  vague  answer. 

"But  you  wrote  her  to  come  at  once." 

"Did  I?"  he  replied  carelessly. 
288 


A  RECONNOITRE 


"Why,  yes,  she  showed  me  your  letter.  I  didn't  write 
you  about  her  arrival  because  you  told  me  under  no 
circumstances,  except  of  life  or  death,  to  tell  you  of 
anything  here  and  I  obeyed  orders." 

"I'm  glad  you've  made  that  a  principle  of  your  life — 
stick  to  it." 

"I'm  sorry  you're  away  in  this  dangerous  campaign 
so  much,  Dad,"  the  boy  said  with  feeling.  "It  may 
end  your  career." 

The  father  smiled  and  a  far-away  look  stole  into  his 
eyes: 

"I  have  no  career,  my  boy!  I  gave  that  up  years 
ago  and  I  had  to  lead  this  campaign." 

"Why?" 

The  look  in  the  brown  eyes  deepened: 

"Because  I  am  the  man  to  whom  our  danger  has 
been  revealed.  I  am  the  man  to  whom  God  has  given 
a  message — I  who  have  been  tried  in  the  fires  of  hell  and 
fought  my  way  up  and  out  of  the  pit — only  the  man 
who  has  no  ambitions  can  tell  the  truth!" 

The  boy  nodded  and  smiled: 

"Yes,  I  know  your  hobby " 

"The  big  tragic  truth,  that  the  physical  contact  of 
the  black  race  with  the  white  is  a  menace  to  our  life" — 
his  voice  had  dropped  to  a  passionate  whisper  as  if  he 
were  talking  to  himself. 

A  laugh  from  Tom  roused  him  to  the  consciousness 
of  time  and  place: 

"But  that  isn't  a  speech  you  meant  for  me, 
Dad!" 

The  father  caught  his  bantering  tone  with  a  light 
reply: 

"No." 

289 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

And  then  his  tall  form  confronted  the  boy  with  a 
look  of  deep  seriousness: 

"To-morrow  I  enter  on  the  last  phase  of  this  cam- 
paign.  At  any  moment  a  fool  or  a  madman  may  blow 
my  brains  out." 

Tom  gave  a  start: 

"Dad " 

"Over  every  mile  of  that  long  drive  home  last  night, 
I  was  brooding  and  thinking  of  you " 

"Of  me?" 

"Wondering  if  I  had  done  my  level  best  to  carry  out 
the  dying  commands  of  your  mother — — " 

He  paused,  drew  a  deep  breath,  looked  up  tenderly 
and  continued: 

"I  wish  you  were  settled  in  life." 

The  boy  turned  slightly  away  and  the  father  watched 
him  keenly  and  furtively  for  a  moment,  and  took  a  step 
toward  him : 

"You  have  never  been  in  love?" 

With  a  shrug  and  a  laugh,  Tom  dropped  carelessly 
on  the  settee  and  crossed  his  legs : 

"Love— hardly!" 

The  father  held  his  breath  until  the  light  answer 
brought  relief  and  then  smiled: 

"It  will  come  some  day,  my  boy,  and  when  it  hits 
you,  I  think  it's  going  to  hit  hard." 

The  handsome  young  head  was  poised  on  one  side 
with  a  serious  judicial  expression: 

"Yes,  I  think  it  will — but  I  guess  my  ideal's  too  high, 
though." 

The  father  spoke  with  deep  emotion : 

"A  man's  ideal  can't  be  too  high,  my  boy!" 

Tom  didn't  hear.     His  mind  was  busy  with  his  ideal. 

290 


A  RECONNOITRE 


"But  if  I  ever  find  her,"  he  went  on  dreamily,  "do 
you  know  what  I'll  want?" 

"No." 

"The  strength  of  Samson!" 

"What  for?" 

He  shook  his  head  with  a  smile: 

"To  reach  over  in  California,  tear  one  of  those  big 
trees  up  by  the  roots,  dip  it  in  the  crater  of  Vesuvius 
and  write  her  name  in  letters  of  fire  across  the 
sky!" 

He  ended  with  a  wide,  sweeping  gesture,  showing  just 
how  he  would  inscribe  it. 

"Really !"  the  father  laughed. 

"That's  how  I  feel!"  he  cried,  springing  to  his  feet 
with  an  emphatic  gesture,  a  smile  playing  about  his 
firm  mouth. 

The  father  slipped  his  arm  around  him : 

"Well,  if  you  should  happen  to  do  it,  be  sure  to 
stand  in  the  ocean,  because  otherwise,  you  know,  if  the 
grass  should  be  dry  you  might  set  the  world  on 
fire." 

The  boy  broke  into  a  hearty  laugh,  crossed  to  the 
table,  and  threw  his  leg  carelessly  over  the  corner,  a 
habit  he  had  gotten  from  his  father.  When  the  laugh 
had  died  away,  he  picked  up  a  magazine  and  said  care 
lessly  : 

"I  guess  there's  no  danger,  after  all.  I'm  afraid 
that  the  big  thing  poets  sing  about  is  only  a  myth  after 
all" — he  paused,  raised  his  eyes  and  they  rested  on  his 
mother's  portrait,  and  his  voice  became  a  reverent 
whisper — "except  your  love  for  my  mother,  Dad — • 
that  was  the  real  thing!" 

He  was  looking  the  other  way  and  couldn't  see  the 
291 


THE  SINS  OF   THE  FATHER 

cloud  of  anguish  that  suddenly  darkened  his  father's 
face. 

"You'll  know  its  meaning  some  day,  my  son,"  was 
the  even  reply  that  came  after  a  pause,  "and  I  only 
demand  of  you  one  thing " 

He  laid  his  hand  on  the  boy's  shoulder : 

"That  the  woman  you  ask  to  be  your  wife  bear  a 
name  without  shadow.  Good  blood  is  the  noblest  in 
heritance  that  any  father  or  mother  ever  gave  to  a 
child." 

"I'm  proud  of  mine,  sir!"  the  boy  said,  drawing  his 
form  erect. 

The  father's  arm  stole  around  the  young  shoulders 
and  his  voice  was  very  low: 

"Fools  sometimes  say,  my  son,  that  a  man  can  sow 
his  wild  oats  and  be  all  the  better  for  it.  It's  a  lie. 
The  smallest  deed  takes  hold  on  eternity  for  it  may 
start  a  train  of  events  that  even  God  can't  stop " 

He  paused  and  fought  back  a  cry  from  the  depths 
of  his  soul. 

"I  did  something  that  hurt  your  mother  once" — his 
voice  dropped — "and  for  twenty  years  my  soul  in  an 
guish  has  begged  for  forgiveness " 

The  boy  looked  at  him  in  startled  sympathy  and 
his  own  arm  instinctively  slipped  around  his  father's 
form  as  he  lifted  his  face  to  the  shining  figure  over  the 
mantel : 

"But  you  believe  that  she  sees  and  understands  now?" 

Norton  turned  his  head  away  to  hide  the  mists  that 
clouded  his  eyes.  His  answer  was  uttered  with  the  rev 
erence  of  a  prayer: 

"Yes!  I've  seen  her  in  dreams  sometimes  so  vividly 
and  heard  her  voice  so  plainly,  I  couldn't  believe  that 

292 


A  RECONNOITRE 


I  was  asleep" — his  voice  stopped  before  it  broke,  his 
arm  tightening  its  hold — "and  I  know  that  her  spirit 
broods  and  watches  over  you " 

And  then  he  suddenly  decided  to  do  the  most  cruel 
thing  to  which  his  mind  had  ever  given  assent.  But 
he  believed  it  necessary  and  did  not  hesitate.  Only 
the  vague  intensity  of  his  eyes  showed  his  deep  feeling 
as  he  said  evenly: 

"Ask  Miss  Helen  to  come  here.  You'll  find  her  on 
the  lawn  with  Cleo." 

The  boy  left  the  room  to  summon  Helen,  and  Norton 
seated  himself  with  grim  determination. 


293 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   FIRST    WHISPER 

WHEN  Tom  reached  the  lawn  Helen  was  nowhere  to 
be  seen.  He  searched  every  nook  and  corner  which 
they  had  been  accustomed  to  haunt,  looked  through 
the  rose  garden  and  finally  knocked  timidly  on  the  door 
of  her  room.  He  was  sure  at  first  that  he  heard  a 
sound  within.  He  dared  not  open  her  door  and  so 
hurried  down  town  to  see  if  he  could  find  her  in  one  of 
the  stores. 

Helen  shivering  inside  had  held  her  breath  until  his 
his  footsteps  died  away  on  the  stairs. 

With  heavy  heart  but  swift  hands  she  was  packing 
her  trunk.  In  spite  of  Cleo's  assurances  she  had  been 
startled  and  frightened  beyond  measure  by  the  cer 
tainty  that  Norton  had  purposely  avoided  her.  She 
had  expected  the  moot  hearty  welcome.  Her  keen  intui 
tion  had  scented  his  hostility  though  not  a  word  had 
been  spoken. 

Cleo,  who  had  avoided  Tom,  again  rapped  on  her 
door: 

"Just  a  minute,  Miss  Helen !" 

There  was  no  answer  and  the  woman  strained  her 
ear  to  hear  what  was  happening  inside.  It  couldn't 
be  possible  that  the  girl  was  really  going  to  leave! 
Such  an  act  of  madness  would  upset  her  plans  just  as 
they  were  coming  out  exactly  as  she  had  hoped. 

294 


THE  FIRST  WHISPER 


"She  can't  mean  it !"  Cleo  muttered  under  her  breath. 
"It's  only  a  fit  of  petulance !"  She  didn't  dare  to  give 
Helen  a  hint  of  her  clouded  birth.  That  might  send 
her  flying.  Yet  if  necessary  she  must  excite  her  curios 
ity  by  a  whisper  about  her  parentage.  She  had  already 
guessed  from  hints  the  girl  had  dropped  that  her  one 
passionate  desire  was  to  know  the  names  of  her  father 
and  mother.  She  would  be  careful,  but  it  was  necessary 
to  hold  her  at  all  hazards. 

She  rapped  again: 

"Please,  Miss  Helen,  may  I  come  in  just  a  minute?" 

Her  voice  was  full  of  pleading.  A  step  was  heard, 
a  pause  and  the  door  opened.  Cleo  quickly  entered, 
turned  the  key  and  in  earnest  tones,  her  eyes  dancing 
excitedly,  asked: 

"You  are  really  packing  your  trunk?" 

"It's  already  packed,"  was  the  firm  answer. 

"But  you   can't  mean   this " 

"I  do." 

"I  tell  you,  child,  the  major  didn't  see  you " 

"He  did  see  me.  I  caught  his  eye  in  a  straight,  clear 
look.  And  he  turned  quickly  to  avoid  me." 

"You  have  his  letter  of  invitation.  You  can't  think 
it  a  forgery?"  she  asked  with  impatience. 

The  girl's  color  deepened: 

"He  has  evidently  changed  his  mind  for  some  rea- 


"Nonsense!" 

"I  was  just  ready  to  rush  to  meet  him  and  thank 
him  with  the  deepest  gratitude  for  his  invitation.  The 
look  on  his  face  when  he  turned  was  like  a  blow." 

"It's  only  your  imagination!"  Cleo  urged  eagerly. 
"He's  worried  over  politics." 

295 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"I'm  not  in  politics.     No,  it's  something  else — I  must 

go." 

Cleo  put  her  hand  appealingly  on  Helen's  arm: 

"Don't  be  foolish,  child !" 

The  girl  drew  away  suddenly  with  instinctive  aver 
sion.  The  act  was  slight  and  quick,  but  not  too  slight 
or  quick  for  the  woman's  sharp  eye.  She  threw  Helen 
a  look  of  resentment: 

"Why  do  you  draw  away  from  me  like  that?" 

The  girl  flushed  with  embarrassment  and  stam 
mered  : 

"Why — you  see,  I've  lived  up  North  all  my  life,  shut 
up  in  a  convent  most  of  the  time  and  I'm  not  used — to — 
colored  people " 

"Well,  I'm  not  a  negro,  please  remember  that.  I'm 
a  nurse  and  housekeeper,  if  you  please,  and  there  hap 
pens  to  be  a  trace  of  negro  blood  in  my  veins,  but  a 
white  soul  throbs  beneath  this  yellow  skin.  I'd  strip  it 
off  inch  by  inch  if  I  could  change  its  color" — her  voice 
broke  with  assumed  emotion — it  was  a  pose  for  the 
moment,  but  its  apparent  genuineness  deceived  the  girl 
and  roused  her  sympathy. 

"I'm  sorry  if  I  hurt  you,"  she  said  contritely. 

"Oh,  it's  no  matter." 

Helen  snapped  the  lid  of  her  trunk: 

"I'm  leaving  on  the  first  train." 

"Oh,  come  now,"  Cleo  urged  impatiently.  "You'll 
do  nothing  of  the  kind — the  major  will  be  himself  to 
morrow." 

"I  am  going  at  once " 

"You're  not  going!"  the  woman  declared  firmly,  lay 
ing  her  hand  again  on  the  girl's  arm. 

With  a  shudder  Helen  drew  quickly  away. 

296 


THE  FIRST  WHISPER 


"Please — please  don't  touch  me  again !"  she  cried 
with  anger.  "I'm  sorry,  but  I  can't  help  it." 

With  an  effort  Cleo  suppressed  her  rage: 

"Well,  I  won't.  I  understand — but  you  can't  go  like 
this.  The  major  will  be  furious." 

"I'm  going,"  the  girl  replied,  picking  up  the  odds  and 
ends  she  had  left  and  placing  them  in  her  travelling 
bag. 

Cleo  watched  her  furtively: 

"I — I — ought  to  tell  you  something  that  I  know 
about  your  life " 

Helen  dropped  a  brush  from  her  hand  and  quickly 
crossed  the  room,  a  bright  color  rushing  to  her 
cheeks : 

"About  my  birth?" 

"You  believe,"  Cleo  began  cautiously,  "that  the  major 
is  the  agent  of  your  guardian  who  lives  abroad.  Well, 
he's  not  the  agent — he  is  your  guardian." 

"Why  should  he  deceive  me?" 

"He  had  reasons,  no  doubt,"  Cleo  replied  with  a 
smile. 

"You  mean  that  he  knows  the  truth  ?  That  he  knows 
the  full  history  of  my  birth  and  the  names  of  my  father 
and  mother?" 

"Yes." 

"He  has  assured  me  again  and  again  that  he  does 
not " 

"I  know  that  he  has  deceived  you." 

Helen  looked  at  her  with  a  queer  expression  of  angry 
repulsion  that  she  should  possess  this  secret  of  her 
unhappy  life. 

"You  know?"  she  asked  faintly. 

"No,"  was  the  quick  reply,  "not  about  your  birth; 
297 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

but  I  assure  you  the  major  does.  Demand  that  he 
teU  you." 

"He'll  refuse " 

"Ask  him  again,  and  stay  until  he  does." 

"But  I'm  intruding!"  Helen  cried,  brushing  a  tear 
from  her  eyes.  • 

"No  matter,  you're  here,  you're  of  age,  you  have  the 
right  to  know  the  truth — stay  until  you  learn  it.  If  he 
slights  you,  pay  no  attention  to  it — stay  until  you 
know." 

The  girl's  form  suddenly  stiffened  and  her  eyes 
flashed : 

"Yes,  I  will— I'll  know  at  any  cost." 

With  a  soft  laugh  which  Helen  couldn't  hear  Clco 
hurried  from  the  room. 


298 


CHAPTER  XIII 


ANDY  had  been  waiting  patiently  for  Cleo  to  leave 
Helen's  door.  He  had  tried  in  vain  during  the  entire 
morning  to  get  an  opportunity  to  see  her  alone,  but 
since  Helen's  appearance  at  breakfast  she  had  scarcely 
left  the  girl's  side  for  five  minutes. 

He  had  slipped  to  the  head  of  the  back  stairs, 
lifted  the  long  flaps  of  the  tail  of  his  new  coat  and  care 
fully  seated  himself  on  the  last  step  to  wait  her  appear 
ance.  He  smiled  with  assurance.  She  couldn't  get 
down  without  a  word  at  least. 

"I'm  gwine  ter  bring  things  to  er  head  dis  day,  sho's 
yer  born !"  he  muttered,  wagging  his  head. 

He  had  been  to  Norfolk  the  week  before  on  an  ex 
cursion  to  attend  the  annual  convention  of  his  African 
mutual  insurance  society,  "The  Children  of  the  King." 
While  there  he  had  met  the  old  woman  who  had  given 
him  a  startling  piece  of  information  about  Cleo  which 
had  set  his  brain  in  a  whirl.  He  had  long  been  des 
perately  in  love  with  her,  but  she  had  treated  him  with 
such  scorn  he  had  never  summoned  the  courage  to  de 
clare  his  affection. 

The  advent  of  Helen  at  first  had  made  no  impression 
on  his  slowly  working  mind,  but  when  he  returned  from 
Norfolk  with  the  new  clew  to  Cleo's  life  he  watched  the 

299 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

girl  with  increasing  suspicion.  And  when  he  saw  the 
collapse  of  Norton  over  the  announcement  of  her  pres 
ence  he  leaped  to  an  important  conclusion.  No  mat 
ter  whether  his  guess  was  correct  or  not,  he  knew 
enough  to  give  him  a  power  over  the  proud  house 
keeper  he  proposed  to  exercise  without  a  moment's 
delay. 

"We  see  now  whether  she  turns  up  her  nose  at  me 
ergin,"  he  chuckled,  as  he  heard  the  door  open. 

He  rose  with  a  broad  grin  as  he  saw  that  at  last 
she  was  alone.  He  adjusted  his  suit  with  a  touch  of 
pride  and  pulled  down  his  vest  with  a  little  jerk  he 
had  seen  his  master  use  in  dressing.  He  had  found  the 
heavy,  black,  double-breasted  vest  in  the  cedar  box,  but 
thought  it  rather  sombre  when  contrasted  with  a  red 
English  hunting  jacket  the  major  had  affected  once 
in  a  fashionable  fox  hunt  before  the  war.  The  rich 
scarlet  took  his  fancy  and  he  selected  that  one  instead. 
He  carried  his  ancient  silk  hat  jauntily  balanced  in  one 
hand,  in  the  other  hand  a  magnolia  in  full  bloom.  The 
petals  of  the  flower  were  at  least  a  half-foot  long  and 
the  leaves  longer. 

He  bowed  with  an  attempt  at  the  easy  manners  of 
a  gentleman  in  a  gallant  effort  to  attract  her  attention. 
She  was  about  to  pass  him  on  the  stairs  without  notic 
ing  his  existence  when  Andy  cleared  his  throat: 

"Ahem !" 

Cleo  paused  with  a  frown: 

"What's  the  matter?     Have  you  caught  cold!" 

Andy  generously  ignored  her  tone,  bowed  and  handed 
her  the  magnolia: 

"Would  you  embellish  yousef  wid  dig  little  posie, 
m'am?" 

800 


•ANDY'S  PROPOSAL 


The  woman  turned  on  him,  drew  her  figure  to  its  full 
height,  her  eyes  blazing  with  wrath,  snatched  the  flower 
from  his  hand  and  threw  it  in  his  face. 

Andy  dodged  in  time  to  save  his  nose  and  his  offer 
ing  went  tumbling  down  the  stairs.  He  shook  his  head 
threateningly  when  he  caught  his  breath : 

"Look  a  here,  m'am,  is  dat  de  way  yer  gwine  spessify 
my  welcome?" 

"Why,  no,  I  was  only  thanking  you  for  the  compli 
ment!"  she  answered  with  a  sneer.  "How  dare  you 
insult  me?" 

"Insult  you,  is  I?"  Andy  chuckled.  "Huh,  if  dat's 
de  way  ye  talk  I'm  gwine  ter  say  sumfin  quick " 

"You  can't  be  too  quick!" 

Andy  held  her  eye  a  moment  and  pointed  his  index 
finger  in  her  face: 

"Yassam!  As  de  ole  sayin'  is — I'm  gwine  take  my 
tex'  from  dat  potion  er  de  Scripter  whar  de  'Postle  Paul 
pint  his  'pistle  at  de  Fenians ! — I'se  er  comin'  straight 
ter  de  pint." 

"Well,  come  to  it,  you  flat-nosed  baboon !"  she  cried 
in  rage.  "What  makes  your  nose  so  flat,  anyhow?" 

Andy  grinned  at  her  tantalizingly,  and  spoke  with  a 
note  of  deliberate  insult: 

"I  don't  know,  m'am,  but  I  spec  hit  wuz  made  dat 
way  ter  keep  hit  outen  odder  folks'  business !" 

"You  impudent  scoundrel,  how  dare  you  speak  to  me 
like  this?"  Cleo  hissed. 

A  triumphant  chuckle  was  his  answer.  He  flicked 
a  piece  of  imaginary  dust  from  the  rim  of  his  hat, 
his  eyes  rolled  to  the  ceiling  and  he  slowly  said  with  a 
smile : 

"Well,  yer  see,  m'am,  circumstances  alters  cases  an' 
301 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

dat  always  makes  de  altercations !  I  git  holt  er  a  little 
secret  o'  yourn  dat  gimme  courage " 

"A  secret  of  mine?"  Cleo  interrupted  with  the  first 
flash  of  surprise. 

"Yassam !"  was  the  unctuous  answer,  as  Andy  looked 
over  his  shoulder  and  bent  to  survey  the  hall  below  for 
any  one  who  might  possibly  be  passing. 

"Yassam,"  he  went  on  smoothly,  "down  ter  Norfork 
las'  week,  m'am " 

"Wait  a  minute !"  Cleo  interrupted.  "Some  one  might 
be  below.  Come  to  my  room." 

"Yassam,  ob  course,  I  wuz  gwine  ter  say  dat  in  de 
fust  place,  but  ye  didn't  gimme  time" — he  bowed — 
"cose,  m'am,  de  pleasure's  all  mine,  as  de  sayin'  is." 

He  placed  his  silk  hat  jauntily  on  his  head  as  they 
reached  the  door,  and  gallantly  took  hold  of  Cleo's  arm 
to  assist  her  down  the  steps. 

She  stopped  abruptly: 

"Wait  here,  I'll  go  ahead  and  you  can  come  in  a  few 
minutes." 

"Sholy,  sholy,  m'am,  I  understan'  dat  er  lady  allus 
likes  ter  make  er  little  preparations  ter  meet  er  gem- 
man.  I  understands.  I  des  stroll  out  on  de  lawn  er 
minute." 

"The  backyard's  better,"  she  replied,  quietly  throw 
ing  him  a  look  of  scorn. 

"Yassam,  all  right.  I  des  take  a  little  cursory  view 
er  de  chickens." 

"As  soon  as  I'm  out  of  sight,  you  can  come  right 
up." 

Andy  nodded  and  Cleo  quickly  crossed  the  fifty  yards 
that  separated  the  house  from  the  neat  square  brick 
building  that  was  still  used  as  the  servants'  quarters. 

302 


ANDY'S  PROPOSAL 


In  a  few  minutes,  with  his  silk  hat  set  on  the  side  of 
his  head,  Andy  tipped  up  the  stairs  and  knocked  on 
her  door. 

He  entered  with  a  grandiloquent  bow  and  surveyed 
the  place  curiously.  Her  room  was  a  sacred  spot  he 
had  never  been  allowed  to  enter  before. 

"Have  a  seat,"  Cleo  said,  placing  a  chair. 

Andy  bowed,  placed  his  hat  pompously  on  the  table, 
pulled  down  his  red  vest  with  a  jerk  and  seated  himself 
deliberately. 

Cleo  glanced  at  him: 

"You  were  about  to  tell  me  something  that  you  heard 
in  Norfolk?" 

Andy  looked  at  the  door  as  an  extra  precaution  and 
smiled  blandly: 

"Yassam,  I  happen  ter  hear  down  dar  dat  a  long 
time  ergo,  mo'rn  twenty  years,  afore  I  cum  ter  live 
here — dat  is  when  I  wuz  er  politicioner — dey  wuz  ru 
mors  'bout  you  an'  de  major  when  you  wuz  Mister 
Tom's  putty  young  nurse." 

"Well?" 

"De  major's  wife  fin'  it  out  an'  die.  De  major  wuz 
heart-broke,  drap  everything  an'  go  Norf,  an'  while 
he  wuz  up  dar,  you  claims  ter  be  de  mudder  of  a  putty 
little  gal.  Now  min'  ye,  I  ain't  nebber  seed  her,  but 
dat's  what  I  hears  you  claims " 

Andy  paused  impressively  and  Cleo  held  his  eye  in  a 
steady,  searching  stare.  She  was  trying  to  guess  how 
much  he  really  knew.  She  began  to  suspect  that  his 
story  was  more  than  half  a  bluff  and  made  up  her  mind 
to  fight. 

"Claim?  No,  you  foolP'  she  said  with  indifferent 
contempt,  "I  didn't  claim  it — I  proved  it.  I  proved 

803 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

it  to  his  satisfaction.  You  may  worry  some  one  else 
with  your  secret.  It  doesn't  interest  me.  But  I'd  ad 
vise  you  to  have  your  life  insured  before  you  mention 
it  to  the  major" — she  paused,  broke  into  a  light  laugh 
and  added:  "So  that's  your  wonderful  discovery?" 

Andy  looked  at  her  with  a  puzzled  expression  and 
scratched  his  head: 

"Yassam." 

"Then  I'll  excuse  you  from  wasting  any  more  of  your 
valuable  time,"  Cleo  said,  rising. 

Andy  rose  and  smiled : 

"Yassam,  but   dat   ain't  all,   m'am!" 

"No?" 

"Nobum.  I  ain't  'sputin  dat  de  little  gal  wuz  born 
des  lak  you  say,  or  des  lak,  mebbe,  de  major  believes  ter 
dis  day" — he  paused  and  leaned  over  until  he  could 
whisper  in  her  ear — "but  sposen  she  die?" 

The  woman  never  moved  a  muscle  for  an  instant. 
She  spoke  at  last  in  a  half-laughing,  incredulous  way: 

"Suppose  she  died?     Why,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"Now,  mind  ye,"  Andy  said,  lifting  his  hands  in  a 
persuasive  gesture,  "I  ain't  sayin'  dat  she  raly  did  die 
— I  des  say — sposen  she  die " 

Cleo  lost  her  temper  and  turned  on  her  tormentor  in 
sudden  fury: 

"But  she  didn't!  Who  dares  to  tell  such  a  lie? 
She's  living  to-day  a  beautiful,  accomplished  girl." 

Andy  solemnly  raised  his  hand  again: 

"Mind  ye,  I  don't  say  dat  she  ain't,  I  des  say  sposen 
— sposen  she  die,  an'  you  git  a  little  orphan  baby  ter 
put  in  her  place,  twenty  years  ergo,  jis'  ter  keep  yer 
grip  on  de  major " 

Cleo  peered  steadily  into  his  face : 
304 


Yassanx,  but  dat  ain't  all,  m'am.' 


ANDY'S  PROPOSAL 


"Did  you  guess  that  lie?" 

He  cocked  his  head  to  one  side  and  grinned: 

"I  don't  say  dat  I  did,  an'  I  don't  say  dat  I  didn't. 
I  des  say  dat  I  mought,  an'  den  ergin  I  moughn't !" 

"Well,  it's  a  lie !"  she  cried  fiercely— "I  tell  you  it's 
an  infamous  lie !" 

"Yassam,  dat  may  be  so,  but  hit's  a  putty  dangous 
lie  fer  you,  m'am,  ef " 

He  looked  around  the  room  in  a  friendly,  cautious 
way  and  continued  in  a  whisper: 

"Especially  ef  de  major  wuz  ter  ever  git  pizened 
widit!" 

Cleo's  voice  dropped  suddenly  to  pleading  tones: 

"You're  not  going  to  suggest  such  an  idea  to  him?" 

Andy  looked  away  coyly  and  glanced  back  at  her 
with  a  smile: 

"Not  ef  yer  ax  me " 

"Well,  I  do  ask  you,"  she  said  in  tender  tones.  "A 
more  infamous  lie  couldn't  be  told.  But  if  such  a  sus 
picion  were  once  roused  it  would  be  hard  to  protect 
myself  against  it." 

"Oh,  I  des  wants  ter  help  ye,  m'am,"  Andy  pro 
tested  earnestly. 

"Then  I'm  sure  you'll  never  suggest  such  a  thing  to 
the  major? — I'm  sorry  I've  treated  you  so  rudely,  and 
spoke  to  you  as  I  did  just  ,iow." 

Andy  waved  the  apology  aside  with  a  generous  ges- 
iure  and  spoke  with  large  good  nature: 

"Oh,  dat's  all  right,  m'am!  Dat's  all  right!  I'm 
gwine  ter  show  you  now  dat  I'se  yer  best  friend " 

"I  may  need  one  soon,"  she  answered  slowly.  "Things 
•can't  go  on  in  this  house  much  longer  as  they  are." 

"Yas&am!"  Andy  said  reassuringly  as  he  laid  his 
305 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

hand  on  Cleo's  arm  and  bent  low.  "You  kin  'pend  on 
me.  I'se  always  called  Hones'  Andy." 

She  shuddered  unconsciously  at  his  touch,  looked  sud 
denly  toward  the  house  and  said: 

"Go — quick !  Mr.  Tom  has  come.  I  don't  want  him 
to  see  us  together." 

Andy  bowed  grandly,  took  up  his  hat  and  tipped 
down  the  stairs  chuckling  over  his  conquest,  and  Cleo 
watched  him  cross  the  yard  to  the  kitchen. 

"I'll  manage  him!*'  she  murmured  with  a  smile  of 
contempt. 


306 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  FOLLY   OF   PITY 

NORTON  sat  in  the  library  for  more  than  an  hour  try 
ing  to  nerve  himself  for  the  interview  while  waiting  for 
Helen.  He  had  lighted  and  smoked  two  cigars  in  rapid 
succession  and  grown  restless  at  her  delay.  He  rose, 
strolled  through  the  house  and  seeing  nothing  of  either 
Tom  or  Helen,  returned  to  the  library  and  began  pacing 
the  floor  with  measured  tread. 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  do  a  cruel  thing  and 
told  himself  over  and  over  again  that  cruel  things  are 
often  best.  The  cruelty  of  surgery  is  the  highest  form 
of  pity,  pity  expressed  in  terms  of  the  highest  intelli 
gence. 

He  was  sure  the  boy  had  not  made  love  to  the  girl. 
Helen  was  no  doubt  equally  innocent  in  her  attitude 
toward  him. 

It  would  only  be  necessary  to  tell  her  a  part  of  the 
bitter  truth  and  her  desire  to  leave  would  be  a  resist 
less  one. 

And  yet,  the  longer  he  delayed  and  the  longer  he 
faced  such  an  act,  the  more  pitiless  it  seemed  and  the 
harder  its  execution  became.  At  heart  a  deep  tender 
ness  was  the  big  trait  of  his  character. 

Above  all,  he  dreaded  the  first  interview  with  Helen. 
The  idea  of  the  responsibility  of  fatherhood  had  always 
been  a  solemn  one.  His  love  for  Tom  was  of  the  very 

307 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

beat  of  his  heart.     The  day  he  first  looked  into  his  face 
was  the  most  wonderful  in  all  the  calendar  of  life. 

He  had  simply  refused  to  let  this  girl  come  into  his 
heart.  He  had  closed  the  door  with  a  firm  will.  He 
had  only  seen  her  once  when  a  little  tot  of  two  and 
he  was  laboring  under  such  deep  excitement  and  such 
abject  fear  lest  a  suspicion  of  the  truth,  or  any  part 
of  the  truth,  reach  the  sisters  to  whom  he  was  intrust 
ing  the  child,  that  her  personality  had  made  no  impres 
sion  on  him. 

He  vaguely  hoped  that  she  might  not  be  attractive. 
The  idea  of  a  girl  of  his  own  had  always  appealed  to 
him  with  peculiar  tenderness,  and,  unlike  most  fathers, 
he  had  desired  that  his  first-born  should  be  a  girl.  If 
Helen  were  commonplace  and  unattractive  his  task 
would  be  comparatively  easy.  It  was  a  mental  im 
possibility  for  him  as  yet  to  accept  the  fact  that  she 
was  his — he  had  seen  so  little  of  her,  her  birth  was  so 
unwelcome,  her  coming  into  his  life  fraught  with  such 
tragic  consequences. 

The  vague  hope  that  she  might  prove  weak  and  un 
interesting  had  not  been  strengthened  by  the  momen 
tary  sight  of  her  face.  The  flash  of  joy  that  lighted 
her  sensitive  features,  though  it  came  across  the  lawn, 
had  reached  him  with  a  very  distinct  impression  of 
charm.  He  dreaded  the  effect  at  close  range. 

However,  there  was  no  other  way.  He  had  to  see 
her  and  he  had  to  make  her  stay  impossible.  It  would 
be  a  staggering  blow  for  a  girl  to  be  told  in  the  dawn 
of  young  womanhood  that  her  birth  was  shadowed  by 
disgrace.  It  would  be  a  doubly  cruel  one  to  tell 
her  that  her  blood  was  mixed  with  a  race  of  black 
slaves. 

308 


THE  FOLLY  OF  PITY 


And  yet  a  life  built  on  a  lie  was  set  on  shifting  sand. 
It  would  not  endure.  It  was  best  to  build  it  squarely  on 
the  truth,  and  the  sooner  the  true  foundation  was  laid 
the  better.  There  could  be  no  place  in  our  civilization 
for  a  woman  of  culture  and  refinement  with  negro  blood 
in  her  veins.  More  and  more  the  life  of  such  people 
must  become  impossible.  That  she  should  remain  in 
the  South  was  unthinkable.  That  the  conditions  in  the 
North  were  at  bottom  no  better  he  knew  from  the  expe 
rience  of  his  stay  in  New  York. 

He  would  tell  her  the  simple,  hideous  truth,  depend 
on  her  terror  to  keep  the  secret,  and  send  her  abroad. 
It  was  the  only  thing  to  do. 

He  rose  with  a  start  at  the  sound  of  Tom's  voice 
calling  her  from  the  stairway. 

The  answer  came  in  low  tones  so  charged  with  the 
quality  of  emotion  that  belongs  to  a  sincere  nature  that 
his  heart  sank  at  the  thought  of  his  task. 

She  had  only  said  the  most  commonplace  thing — "All 
right,  I'll  be  down  in  a  moment."  Yet  the  tones  of  her 
voice  were  so  vibrant  with  feeling  that  its  force  reached 
him  instantly,  and  he  knew  that  his  interview  was 
going  to  be  one  of  the  most  painful  hours  of  his 
life. 

And  still  he  was  not  prepared  for  the  shock  her  ap 
pearance  in  the  shadows  of  the  tall  doorway  gave.  He 
had  formed  no  conception  of  the  gracious  and  appeal 
ing  personality.  In  spite  of  the  anguish  her  presence 
had  brought,  in  spite  of  preconceived  ideas  of  the  in 
heritance  of  the  vicious  nature  of  her  mother,  in  spite 
of  his  ingrained  repugnance  to  the  negroid  type,  in 
spite  of  his  horror  of  the  ghost  of  his  young  manhood 
suddenly  risen  from  the  dead  to  call  him  to  judgment, 

309 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

in  spite  of  his  determination  to  be  cruel  as  the  surgeon 
to  the  last — in  spite  of  all,  his  heart  suddenly  went  out 
to  her  in  a  wave  of  sympathy  and  tenderness ! 

She  was  evidently  so  pitifully  embarrassed  and  the 
suffering  in  her  large,  expressive  eyes  so  keen  and  gen 
uine,  his  first  impulse  was  to  rush  to  her  side  with 
words  of  comfort  and  assurance. 

The  simple  white  dress,  with  tiny  pink  ribbons  drawn 
through  its  edges,  which  she  wore  accentuated  the  im 
pression  of  timidity  and  suffering. 

He  was  surprised  to  find  not  the  slightest  trace  of 
negroid  blood  apparent,  though  he  knew  that  a  mixture 
of  the  sixteenth  degree  often  left  no  trace  until  its  sud 
den  reversion  to  a  black  child. 

Her  hair  was  the  deep  brown  of  his  own  in  young 
manhood,  the  eyes  large  and  tender  in  their  rich  blue 
depths — the  eyes  of  innocence,  intelligence,  sincerity. 
The  lips  were  full  and  fluted,  and  the  chin  marked  with 
an  exquisite  dimple  that  gave  a  childlike  wistfulness  to 
a  face  that  without  it  might  have  suggested  too  much 
strength. 

Her  neck  was  slightly  curved  and  set  on  full,  strong 
shoulders  with  an  unconscious  grace.  The  bust  was 
slight  and  girlish,  the  arms  and  figure  rounded  and 
beautiful  in  their  graceful  fullness. 

Her  walk,  when  she  took  the  first  few  steps  into  the 
room  and  paused,  he  saw  was  the  incarnation  of  rhyth 
mic  strength  and  perfect  health. 

But  her  voice  was  the  climax  of  her  appeal — low,  vi 
brant,  quivering  with  feeling  and  full  of  a  subtle  quality 
that  convinced  the  hearer  from  the  first  moment  of  the 
truth  and  purity  of  its  owner. 

She  smiled  with  evident  embarrassment  at  his  silence. 
310 


THE  FOLLY  OF  PITY 


He  was  stunned  for  the  moment  and  simply  couldn't 
speak. 

"So,  I  see  you  at  last,  Major  Norton  I"  she  said  as 
the  color  slowly  stole  over  her  face. 

He  recovered  himself,  walked  quickly  to  meet  her 
and  extended  his  hand: 

"I  must  apologize  for  not  seeing  you  earlier  this 
morning,"  he  said  gravely.  "I  was  up  all  night  travel 
ling  through  the  country  and  slept  very  late." 

As  her  hand  rested  in  his  the  girl  forgot  her  re 
straint  and  wounded  pride  at  the  cold  and  doubtful 
reception  he  had  given  earlier.  Her  heart  suddenly  beat 
with  a  desire  to  win  this  grave,  strong  man's  love  and 
respect. 

With  a  look  of  girlish  tenderness  she  hastened  to 
say: 

"I  want  to  thank  you  with  the  deepest  gratitude, 
major,  for  your  kindness  in  inviting  me  here  this  sum 
mer " 

"Don't  mention  it,  child,"  he  interrupted  frown 
ing. 

"Oh,  if  you  only  knew,"  she  went  on  hurriedly,  "how 
I  love  the  South,  how  my  soul  glows  under  its  skies, 
how  I  love  its  people,  their  old-fashioned  ways,  their 
kindness,  their  hospitality,  their  high  ideals " 

'He  lifted  his  hand  and  the  gesture  stopped  her  in 
the  midst  of  a  sentence.  He  was  evidently  struggling 
with  an  embarrassment  that  was  painful  and  had  de 
termined  to  end  it. 

"The  time  has  come,  Helen,"  he  began  firmly — 
"you're  of  age — that  I  should  tell  you  the  important 
facts  about  your  birth." 

"Yes — yes "  the  'girl  answered  in  an  excited 

311 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

whisper  as  she  sank  into  a  chair  and  gazed  at  him  fas 
cinated  with  the  terror  of  his  possible  revelation. 

"I  wish  I  could  tell  you  all,"  he  said,  pausing  pain 
fully. 

"You  know— all?" 

"Yes,  I  know." 

"My  father — my  mother — they  are  living?" 

In  spite  of  his  effort  at  self-control  Norton  was  pale 
and  his  voice  strained.  His  answers  to  her  pointed 
questions  were  given  with  his  face  turned  from  her 
searching  gaze. 

"Your  mother  is  living,"  was  the  slow  reply. 

"And  my  father?" 

His  eyes  were  set  in  a  fixed  stare  waiting  for  this 
question,  as  a  prisoner  in  the  dock  for  the  sentence  of 
a  judge.  His  lips  gave  no  answer  for  the  moment  and 
the  girl  went  on  eagerly: 

"Through  all  the  years  that  I've  been  alone,  the  one 
desperate  yearning  of  my  heart  has  been  to  know  my 
father" — the  lines  of  the  full  lips  quivered — "I've  al 
ways  felt  somehow  that  a  mother  who  could  give  up  her 
babe  was  hardly  worth  knowing.  And  so  I've  brooded 
over  the  idea  of  a  father.  I've  hoped  and  dreamed  and 
prayed  that  he  might  be  living — that  I  might  see  and 
know  him,  win  his  love,  and  in  its  warmth  and  joy,  its 
shelter  and  strength — never  be  lonely  or  afraid 
again " 

Her  voice  sank  to  a  sob,  and  Norton,  struggling  to 
master  his  feelings,  said: 

"You  have  been  lonely  and  afraid?" 

'"Utterly  lonely!  When  other  girls  at  school 
shouted  for  joy  at  the  approach  of  vacation,  the  thought 
of  home  and  loved  ones,  it  brought  to  me  only  tears 

312 


THE  FOLLY  OF  PITY 


and  heartache.  Many  a  night  I've  laid  awake  for 
hours  and  sobbed  because  a  girl  had  asked  me  about  my 
father  and  mother.  Lonely ! — oh,  dear  Lord !  And  al 
ways  I've  dried  my  eyes  with  the  thought  that  some  day 
I  might  know  my  father  and  sob  out  on  his  breast  all 
I've  felt  and  suffered" — she  paused,  and  looked  at  Nor 
ton  through  a  mist  of  tears — "my  father  is  not  dead?" 

The  stillness  was  painful.  The  man  could  hear  the 
tick  of  the  little  French  clock  on  the  mantel.  How 
tired  his  soul  was  of  lies!  He  couldn't  lie  to  her  in 
answer  to  this  question.  And  so  without  lifting  his 
head  he  said  very  softly: 

"He  is  also  alive." 

"Thank  God !'  the  girl  breathed  reverently.  "Oh,  if 
I  could  only  touch  his  hand  and  look  into  his  face!  I 
don't  care  who  he  is,  how  poor  and  humble  his  home,  if 
it's  a  log  cabin  on  a  mountain  side,  or  a  poor  white 
man's  hovel  in  town,  I'll  love  him  and  cling  to  him  and 
make  him  love  me!" 

The  man  winced.  There  was  one  depth  her  mind  had 
not  fathomed! 

How  could  he  push  this  timid,  lonely,  haunted  crea 
ture  over  such  a  precipice!  He  glanced  at  her  fur 
tively  and  saw  that  she  was  dreaming  as  in  a  trance.  v 

"But  suppose,"  he  said  quietly,  "you  should  hate  this 
man  when  you  had  met?" 

"It's  unthinkable,"  was  the  quick  response.  "My 
father  is  my  father.  I'd  love  him  if  he  were  a  mur 
derer  !" 

Again  her  mind  had  failed  to  sound  the  black  depths 
into  which  he  was  about  to  hurl  her.  She  might  love 
a  murderer,  but  there  was  one  thing  beyond  all  ques 
tion,  this  beautiful,  sensitive,  cultured  girl  could  not 

313 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

love  the  man  who  had  thrust  her  into  the  hell  of  a 
negroid  life  in  America !  She  might  conceive  of  the 
love  of  a  father  who  could  take  human  life,  but  her 
mind  could  not  conceive  the  possibility  of  facing  the 
truth  with  which  he  must  now  crush  the  soul  out  of  her 
body.  Why  had  he  lied  and  deceived  her  at  all?  The 
instinctive  desire  to  shield  his  own  blood  from  a  life 
of  ignominy — yes.  But  was  it  worth  the  risk?  No — 
he  knew  it  when  it  was  too  late.  The  steel  jaws  with 
their  cold  teeth  were  tearing  the  flesh  now  at  every 
turn  and  there  was  no  way  of  escape. 

When  he  failed  to  respond,  she  rose,  pressed  close 
and  pleaded  eagerly : 

"Tell  me  his  name !  Oh,  it's  wonderful  that  you 
have  seen  him,  heard  his  voice  and  held  his  hand!  He 
may  not  be  far  away — tell  me " 

Norton  shook  his  head: 

"The  one  thing,  child,  I  can  never  do." 

"You  are  a  father — a  father  who  loves  his  own 
— I've  seen  and  know  that.  A  nameless  waif  starving 
for  a  word  of  love  begs  it — just  one  word  of  deep,  real 
love — think  of  it!  My  heart  has  never  known  it  in 
all  the  years  I've  lived!" 

Norton  lifted  his  hand  brusquely: 

"You  ask  the  impossible.  The  conditions  under 
which  I  am  acting  as  your  guardian  seal  my  lips." 

The  girl  looked  at  him  steadily : 

"Then,  you  are  my  real  guardian?" 

"Yes." 

"And  why  have  you  not  told  me  before?" 

The  question  was  asked  with  a  firm  emphasis  that 
startled  him  into  a  sense  of  renewed  danger. 

"Why?"  she  repeated. 

314 


THE  FOLLY  OF  PITY 


"To  avoid  questions  I  couldn't  answer." 
"You  will  answer  them  now?" 
"With  reservations." 

The  girl  drew  herself  up  with  a  movement  of  quiet 
determination  and  spoke  in  even  tones: 
"My  parents  are  Southern?" 


"My  father  and  mother  were  —  were"  —  her  voice 
failed,  her  head  dropped  and  in  an  effort  at  self-con 
trol  she  walked  to  the  table,  took  a  book  in  her  hand 
and  tried  to  turn  its  leaves.  The  hideous  question  over 
which  she  had  long  brooded  was  too  horrible  to  put 
into  words.  The  answer  he  might  give  was  too  big 
with  tragic  possibilities.  She  tried  to  speak  again  and 
couldn't.  He  looked  at  her  with  a  great  pity  in 
his  heart  and  when  at  last  she  spoke  her  voice  was 
scarcely  a  whisper: 

"My  father  and  mother  were  married?" 

He  knew  it  was  coming  and  that  he  must  answer, 
and  yet  hesitated.  His  reply  was  low,  but  it  rang 
through  her  soul  like  the  stroke  of  a  great  bell  tolling 
for  the  dead: 

"No!" 

The  book  she  held  slipped  from  the  trembling  fin 
gers  and  fell  to  the  floor.  Norton  walked  to  the  win 
dow  that  he  might  not  see  the  agony  in  her  sensitive 
face. 

She  stood  very  still  and  the  tears  began  slowly  to 
steal  down  her  cheeks. 

"God  pity  me  !"  she  sobbed,  lifting  her  face  and  look 
ing  pathetically  at  Norton.  "Why  did  you  let  them 
send  me  to  school?  Why  teach  me  to  think  and  feel 
and  know  this?" 

315 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

The  low,  sweet  tones  of  her  wonderful  voice  found 
the  inmost  heart  of  the  man.  The  misery  and  loneli 
ness  of  the  orphan  years  of  which  she  had  spoken  were 
nothing  to  the  anguish  with  which  her  being  now 
shook. 

He  crossed  the  room  quickly  and  extended  his  hand 
in  a  movement  of  instinctive  sympathy  and  tender 
ness: 

"Come,  come,  child — you're  young  and  life  is  all  be 
fore  you." 

"Yes,  a  life  of  shame  and  humiliation !" 

"The  world  is  wide  to-day!  A  hundred  careers  are 
open  to  you.  Marriage  is  impossible — yes " 

"And  if  I  only  wish  for  marriage?"  the  girl  cried 
with  passionate  intensity.  "If  my  ideal  is  simple  and 
old-fashioned — if  all  I  ask  of  God  is  the  love  of  one 
man — a  home — a  baby " 

A  shadow  of  pain  clouded  Norton's  face  and  he  lifted 
a  hand  in  tender  warning: 

"Put  marriage  out  of  your  mind  once  and  for  all< 
time!  It  can  only  bring  to  you  and  your  loved  ones 
hopeless  misery." 

Helen  turned  with  a  start : 

"Even  if  the  man  I  love  should  know  all?" 

"Yes,"  was  the  firm  answer. 

She  gazed  steadily  into  his  eyes  and  asked  with  sharp 
rising  emphasis : 

"Why?" 

The  question  brought  him  squarely  to  the  last  blow 
he  must  give  if  he  accomplish  the  thing  he  had  begun. 
He  must  tell  her  that  her  mother  is  a  negress.  He 
looked  at  the  quivering  figure,  the  white,  sensitive, 
young  face  with  the  deep,  serious  eyes,  and  his  lips  re- 

316 


THE  FOLLY  OF  PITY 


fused  to  move.  He  tried  to  speak  and  his  throat  was 
dry.  It  was  too  cruel.  There  must  be  an  easier  way. 
He  couldn't  strike  the  sweet  uplifted  head. 

He  hesitated,  stammered  and  said : 

"I — I'm  sorry — I  can't  answer  that  question  fully 
and  frankly.  It  may  be  best,  but " 

"Yes,  yes — it's  best!"  she  urged. 

"It  may  be  best,"  he  repeated,  "but  I  simply  can't 
do  it" — he  paused,  turned  away  and  suddenly  wheeled 
confronting  her: 

"I'll  tell  you  all  that  you  need  to  know  to-day — 
you  were  born  under  the  shadow  of  a  hopeless  dis 
grace " 

The  girl  lifted  her  hand  as  if  to  ward  a  blow  while 
she  slowly  repeated: 

"A  hopeless — disgrace " 

"Beneath  a  shadow  so  deep,  no  lover's  vow  can  ever 
lift  it  from  your  life.  I  should  have  told  you  this  be 
fore,  perhaps — well,  somehow  I  couldn't" — he  paused 
and  his  voice  trembled — "I  wanted  you  to  grow  in 
strength  and  character  first " 

The  girl  clenched  her  hands  and  sprang  in  front  of 
him: 

"That  my  agony  might  be  beyond  endurance?  Now 
you  must  tell  me  the  whole  truth!" 

Again  the  appealing  uplifted  face  had  invited  the 
blow,  and  again  his  heart  failed.  It  was  impossible  to 
crush  her.  It  was  too  horrible.  He  spoke  with  firm 
decision : 

"Not  another  word !" 

He  turned  and  walked  rapidly  to  the  door.  The  girl 
clung  desperately  to  his  arm: 

"I  beg  of  you !     I  implore  you !" 
317 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

He  paused  in  the  doorway,  and  gently  took  her 
hands: 

"Forgive  me,  child,  if  I  seem  cruel.  In  reality  I  am 
merciful.  I  must  leave  it  just  there!" 

He  passed  quickly  out. 

The  girl  caught  the  heavy  curtains  for  support, 
turned  with  an  effort,  staggered  back  into  the  room, 
fell  prostrate  on  the  lounge  with  a  cry  of  despair,  and 
burst  into  uncontrollable  sobs. 


318 


CHAPTER  XV 

A    DISCOVERY 

TOM  had  grown  restless  waiting  for  Helen  to  emerge 
from  the  interminable  interview  with  his  father.  A  half 
dozen  times  he  had  walked  past  the  library  door 
only  to  hear  the  low  hum  of  their  voices  still  talk 
ing. 

"What  on  earth  is  it  all  about,  I  wonder?"  he  mut 
tered.  "Must  be  telling  her  the  story  of  his  whole 
life!" 

He  had  asked  her  to  meet  him  in  the  old  rose  garden 
when  she  came  out.  For  the  dozenth  time  he  strolled 
in  and  sat  down  on  their  favorite  rustic.  He 
could  neither  sit  still  nor  content  himself  with  wander 
ing. 

"What  the  devil's  the  matter  with  me  anyhow?"  he 
said  aloud.  "The  next  thing  I'll  be  thinking  I'm  in 
love — good  j  oke — bah !" 

Helen  was  not  the  ideal  he  had  dreamed.  She  had 
simply  brought  a  sweet  companionship  into  his  life — 
that  was  all.  She  was  a  good  fellow.  She  could  walk, 
ride,  run  and  hold  her  own  at  any  game  he  liked  to  play. 
He  had  walked  with  her  over  miles  of  hills  and  valleys 
stretching  in  every  direction  about  town.  He  had 
never  grown  tired  of  these  walks.  He  didn't  have  to 
entertain  her.  They  were  silent  often  for  a  long  time. 
They  sat  down  beside  the  roadway,  laughed  and  talked 

319 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

like  chums  with  never  a  thought  of  entertaining  each 
other. 

In  the  long  rides  they  had  taken  in  the  afternoons 
and  sometimes  late  in  the  starlight  or  moonlight,  s]ie 
had  never  grown  silly,  sentimental  or  tiresome.  A  re&t- 
ful  and  homelike  feeling  always  filled  him  when  she  w&is 
by  his  side.  He  hadn't  thought  her  very  beautiful  at 
first,  but  the  longer  he  knew  her  the  more  charming  and 
irresistible  her  companionship  became. 

"Her  figure's  a  little  too  full  for  the  finest  type  of 
beauty!"  he  was  saying  to  himself  now.  "Her  arms 
are  splendid,  but  the  least  bit  too  big,  and  her  face 
sometimes  looks  too  strong  for  a  girl's !  It's  a  pity. 
Still,  by  geeminy,  when  she  smiles  she  is  beautiful!  Her 
face  seems  to  fairly  blossom  with  funny  little  dimples 
— and  that  one  on  the  chin  is  awfully  pretty!  She 
just  misses  by  a  hair  being  a  stunningly  beauUful 
girl!" 

He  flicked  a  fly  from  his  boot  with  a  switch  he  was 
carrying  and  glanced  anxiously  toward  the  horse. 
"And  I  must  say,"  he  acknowledged  judicially,  "that 
she  has  a  bright  mind,  her  tastes  are  fine,  her  ideals 
high.  She  isn't  all  the  time  worrying  over  balls  and 
dresses  and  beaux  like  a  lot  of  silly  girls  I  know.  She's 
got  too  much  sense  for  that.  The  fact  is,  she  has  *• 
brilliant  mind." 

Now  that  he  came  to  think  of  it,  she  had  a  mind  of 
rare  brilliance.  Everything  she  said  seemed  to  sparkle- 
He  didn't  stop  to  ask  the  reason  why,  he  simply  knew 
that  it  was  so.  If  she  spoke  about  the  weather,  he7 
words  never  seemed  trivial. 

He  rose  scowling  and  walked  back  to  the  house. 

"What  on  earth  can  they  be  talking  about  all  this 
320 


A   DISCOVEET 


time?"  he  cried  angrily.  Just  then  his  father's  tall 
figure  stepped  out  on  the  porch,  walked  its  length  and 
entered  the  sitting-room  by  one  of  the  French  win 
dows. 

He  sprang  up  the  steps,  thrust  his  head  into  the  hall, 
and  softly  whistled.  He  waited  a  moment,  there  was 
no  response,  and  he  repeated  the  call.  Still  receiving 
no  answer,  he  entered  cautiously: 

"Miss  Helen!" 

He  tipped  to  the  library  door  and  called  again: 

"Miss  Helen!" 

Surprised  that  she  could  have  gone  so  quickly  he 
rushed  into  the  room,  glanced  hastily  around,  crossed 
to  the  window,  looked  out  on  the  porch,  heard  the  rustle 
of  a  skirt  and  turned  in  time  to  see  her  flying  to  escape. 

With  a  quick  dash  he  headed  her  off. 

Hiding  her  face  she  turned  and  ran  the  other  way 
for  the  door  through  which  he  had  entered. 

With  a  laugh  and  a  swift  leap  Tom  caught  her 
arms. 

Lord,   you're    a    sprinter!"    he    cried    breathlessly. 
But   I've    got    you   now!"   he   laughed,    holding  her 
pinioned  arms  tightly. 

Helen  lifted  her  tear-stained  face: 

"Please—" 

Tom  drew  her  gently  around  and  looked  into  her 
eyes: 

"Why — what  on  earth — you're  crying!" 

She  tried  to  draw  away  but  he  held  her  hand  firmly: 

"What  is  it?  What's  happened?  What's  the  mat 
ter?" 

His  questions  were  fired  at  her  with  lightning  rapid- 

ity. 

321 


(C 
f< 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

The  girl  dropped  forlornly  on  the  lounge  and  turned 
her  face  away: 

"Please  go!" 

"I  won't  go — I  won't !"  he  answered  firmly  as  he  bent 
closer. 

"Please — please !" 

"Tell  me  what  it  is?" 

Helen  held  her  face  resolutely  from  him. 

"Tell  me,"  he  urged  tenderly. 

"I  can't!" 

She  threw  herself  prostrate  and  broke  into  sobs. 

The  boy  wrung  his  hands  helplessly,  started  to  put 
his  arm  around  her,  caught  himself  in  time  and  drew 
back  with  a  start.  At  last  he  burst  out  passionately : 

"Don't — don't!  For  heaven's  sake  don't!  It  hurts 
me  more  than  it  does  you — I  don't  know  what  it  is  but 
it  hurts — it  hurts  inside  and  it  hurts  deep — please !" 

Without  lifting  her  head  Helen  cried: 

"I  don't  want  to  live  any  more !" 

"Oh,  is  that  all?"  Tom  laughed.  "I  see,  you've 
stubbed  your  toe  and  don't  want  to  live  any  more !" 

"I  mean  it!'  she  broke  in  desperately. 

"Good  joke!"  he  cried  again,  laughing.  "You  don't 
want  to  live  any  more!  Twenty  years  old  and  every 
line  of  your  graceful,  young  form  quivering  with  the 
joy  of  life — you — you  don't  want  to  live!  That's 
great !" 

The  girl  lifted  her  dimmed  eyes,  looked  at  him  a  mo 
ment,  and  spoke  the  thought  that  had  poisoned  her 
soul — spoke  it  in  hard,  bitter  accents  with  a  touch  of 
self-loathing : 

"I've  just  learned  that  my  birth  is  shadowed  by 
disgrace !" 


A   DISCOVERY 


"Well,  what  have  you  to  do  with  that?"  he  asked 
quickly.  "Your  whole  being  shines  with  truth  and 
purity.  What's  an  accident  of  birth?  You  couldn't 
choose  your  parents,  could  you?  You're  a  nameless 
orphan  and  my  father  is  the  attorney  of  an  old  fool 
guardian  who  lives  somewhere  in  Europe.  All  right! 
The  worst  thing  your  worst  enemy  could  say  is  that 
you're  a  child  of  love — a  great  love  that  leaped  all 
bounds  and  defied  the  law — a  love  that  was  madness  and 
staked  all  life  on  the  issue !  That  means  you're  a  child 
of  the  gods.  Some  of  the  greatest  men  and  women  of 
the  world  were  born  like  that.  Your  own  eyes  are 
clear.  There's  no  cloud  on  your  beautiful  soul " 

Tom  paused  and  Helen  lifted  her  face  in  rapt  atten 
tion.  The  boy  suddenly  leaped  to  his  feet,  turned  away 
and  spoke  in  ecstatic  whispers: 

"Good  Lord — listen  at  me — why — I'm  making  love 
— great  Scott — I'm  in  love!  The  big  thing  has  hap 
pened — to  me — to  me!  I  feel  the  thrill  of  it — the 
thing  that  transforms  the  world — why — it's  like  getting 
religion !" 

He  strode  back  and  forth  in  a  frenzy  of  absurd  hap 
piness. 

Helen,  smiling  through  her  tears,  asked : 

"What  are  you  saying?  What  are  you  talking 
about?" 

With  a  cry  of  joy  he  was  at  her  side,  her  hand  tight 
gripped  in  his : 

"Why,  that  I'm  in  love,  my  own — that  I  love  you, 
my  glorious  little  girl!  I  didn't  realize  it  until  I  saw 
just  now  the  tears  in  your  eyes  and  felt  the  pain  of  it. 
Every  day  these  past  weeks  you've  been  stealing  into 
my  heart  until  now  you're  my  very  life!  What  hurts 

323 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

you  hurts  me — your  joys  are  mine — your  sorrows  are 
mine !" 

Laughing  in  spite  of  herself,  Helen  cried : 

"You — don't  realize  what  you're  saying!" 

"No — but  I'm  beginning  to !"  he  answered  with  a  boy 
ish  smile.  "And  it  goes  to  my  head  like  wine — I'm  mad 
with  its  joy!  I  tell  you  I  love  you — I  love  you!  and 
you  love  me — you  do  love  me?" 

The  girl  struggled,  set  her  lips  grimly  and  said 
fiercely : 

"No— and  I  never  shall!" 

"You  don't  mean  it?" 

"I  do !" 

"You — you — don't  love   another?" 

«No— no !" 

"Then  you  do  love  me!"  he  cried  triumphantly. 
"You've  just  got  to  love  me!  I  won't  take  any  other 
answer !  Look  into  my  eyes !" 

She  turned  resolutely  away  and  he  took  both  hands 
drawing  her  back  until  their  eyes  met. 

"Your  lips  say  no,"  he  went  on,  "but  your  tears, 
your  voice,  the  tremor  of  your  hand  and  the  tenderness 
of  your  eyes  say  yes !" 

Helen  shook  her  head: 

"No— no— no !" 

But  the  last  "no"  grew  feebler  than  the  first  and  he 
pressed  her  hand  with  cruel  pleading: 

«Yes — yes — yes — say  it,  dear — please — just  once." 

Helen  looked  at  him  and  then  with  a  cry  of  joy  that 
was  resistless  said: 

"God  forgive  me!  I  can't  help  it — yes,  yes,  yes,  I 
love  you — I  love  you!" 

Tom  snatched  her  to  his  heart  and  held  her  in  per- 
324 


A   DISCOVERY 


feet   surrender.      She   suddenly    drew   her   arms   from 
his  neck,  crying  in  dismay : 

"No— no— I  don't  love  you!" 

The  boy  looked  at  her  with  a  start  and  she  went  on 
quickly : 

"I  didn't  mean  to  say  it — I  meant  to  say — I  hate 
you!" 

With  a  cry  of  pain  she  threw  herself  into  his  arms, 
clasping  his  neck  and  held  him  close. 

His  hand  gently  stroked  the  brown  hair  while  he 
laughed : 

"Well,  if  that's  the  way  you  hate— keep  it  up !" 

With  an  effort  she  drew  back: 

"But  I  mustn't " 

"There !"  he  said,  tenderly  drawing  her  close  again. 
"It's  all  right.  It's  no  use  to  struggle.  You're  mine — 
mine,  I  tell  you !" 

With  a  determined  effort  she  freed  herself : 

"It's  no  use,  dear,  our  love  is  impossible." 

"Nonsense!" 

"But  you  don't  realize  that  my  birth  is  shadowed 
by  disgrace!" 

"I  don't  believe  it — I  wouldn't  believe  it  if  an  angel 
said  it.  Who  dares  to  say  such  a  thing?" 

"Your  father!" 

"My  father?"  he  repeated  in  a  whisper. 

"He  has  always  known  the  truth  and  now  that  I  am 
of  age  he  has  told  me " 

"Told  you  what?" 

''Just  what  I  said,  and  warned  me  that  marriage 
could  only  bring  pain  and  sorrow  to  those  I  love." 

"He  gave  you  no  facts — only  these  vague  warnings  ?" 

"Yes,  more — he  told  me " 

325 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

She  paused  and  moved  behind  the  table : 

"That  my  father  and  mother  were  never  mar 
ried." 

"Nothing  more?"  the  boy  asked  eagerly. 

"That's  enough." 

"Not  for  me!" 

"Suppose  my  father  were  a  criminal?" 

"No  matter — your  soul's  as  white  as  snow!" 

"Suppose  my  mother " 

"I  don't  care  who  she  was — you're  an  angel!" 

Helen  faced  him  with  strained  eagerness : 

"You  swear  that  no  stain  on  my  father  or  mother 
can  ever  make  the  least  difference  between  us?" 

"I  swear  it !"  he  cried  grasping  her  hand.  "Come, 
you're  mine !" 

Helen  drew  back: 

"Oh,  if  I  could  only  believe  it " 

"You  do  believe  it — come !" 

He  opened  his  arms  and  she  smiled* 

"What  shall  I  do!" 

"Come!" 

Slowly  at  first,  and  then  with  quick,  passionate  ten 
derness  she  threw  herself  into  his  arms : 

"I  can't  help  it,  dearest.  It's  too  sweet  and  won 
derful — God  help  me  if  I'm  doing  wrong !" 

"Wrong!"  he  exclaimed  indignantly.  "How  can  it 
be  wrong,  this  solemn  pledge  of  life  and  love,  of  body  and 
soul?" 

She  lifted  her  face  to  his  in  wonder: 

"And  you  will  dare  to  tell  your  father?" 

"In  good  time,  yes.  But  it's  our  secret  now.  Keep 
it  until  I  say  the  time  has  come  for  him  to  know.  I'll 
manage  him — promise !" 

326 


A   DISCOVERY 


"Yes !  How  sweet  it  is  to  hear  you  tell  me  what  to 
do !  I  shall  never  be  lonely  or  afraid  again." 

The  father's  footstep  on  the  porch  warned  of  his 
approach. 

"Go  quickly!"  the  boy  whispered.  "I  don't  want 
him  to  see  us  together  yet — it  means  too  much  now — it 
means  life  itself !" 

Helen  moved  toward  the  door,  looked  back,  laughed, 
flew  again  into  his  arms  and  quickly  ran  into  the  hall 
as  Norton  entered  from  the  porch. 

The  boy  caught  the  look  of  surprise  on  his  father's 
face,  realized  that  he  must  have  heard  the  rustle  of 
Helen's  dress,  and  decided  instantly  to  accept  the  fact. 

He  boldly  walked  to  the  door  and  gazed  after  her 
retreating  figure,  his  back  squarely  on  his  father. 

Norton  paused  and  looked  sharply  at  Tom: 

"Was— that— Helen?" 

The  boy  turned,  smiling,  and  nodded  with  slight  em 
barrassment  in  spite  of  his  determined  effort  at  self- 
control  : 

"Yes." 

The  father's  keen  eyes  pierced  the  boy's : 

"Why  should  she  run?" 

Tom's  face  sobered: 

"I  don't  think  she  wished  to  see  you  just  now, 
sir." 

"Evidently !" 

"She  had  been  crying." 

"And  told  you  why?" 

"Yes." 

The  father  frowned: 

"She  has  been  in  the  habit  of  making  you  her  con 
fidant?" 

327 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

"No.  But  I  found  her  in  tears  and  asked  her  the 
reason  for  them." 

Norton  was  watching  closely: 

"She  told  you  what  I  had  just  said  to  her?" 

"Vaguely,"  Tom  answered,  and  turning  squarely 
on  his  father  asked:  "Would  you  mind  telling  me  the 
whole  truth  about  it?" 

"Why  do  you  ask?" 

The  question  came  from  the  father's  lips  with  a  sud 
den  snap,  so  suddenly,  so  sharply  the  boy  lost  his  com 
posure,  hung  his  head,  and  stammered  with  an  attempt 
at  a  smile: 

"Oh — naturally  curious — I  suppose  it's  a  secret?" 

"Yes— I  wish  I  could  tell  you,  but  I  can't"— he 
paused  and  spoke  with  sudden  decision : 

"Ask  Cleo  to  come  here." 


328 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  CHALLENGE 

NORTON  was  morally  certain  now  that  the  boy  was 
interested  in  Helen.  How  far  this  interest  had  gone 
he  could  only  guess. 

What  stunned  him  was  that  Tom  had  already  taken 
sides  with  the  girl.  He  had  not  said  so  in  words.  But 
his  embarrassment  and  uneasiness  could  mean  but  one 
thing.  He  must  move  with  caution,  yet  he  must  act  at 
once  and  end  the  dangerous  situation.  A  clandestine 
love  affair  was  a  hideous  possibility.  Up  to  a  moment 
ago  he  had  held  such  a  thing  out  of  the  question  with 
the  boy's  high-strung  sense  of  honor  and  his  lack  of 
experience  with  girls. 

He  was  afraid  now  of  both  the  boy  and  girl.  She 
had  convinced  him  of  her  purity  when  the  first  words 
had  fallen  from  her  lips.  Yet  wiser  men  had  been  de 
ceived  before.  The  thought  of  her  sleek,  tawny  mother 
came  with  a  shudder.  No  daughter  could  escape  such 
an  inheritance. 

There  was  but  one  thing  to  do  and  it  must  be  done 
quickly.  He  would  send  Helen  abroad  and  if  necessary 
tell  her  the  whole  hideous  truth. 

He  lifted  his  head  at  the  sound  of  Cleo's  footsteps, 
rose  and  confronted  her.  As  his  deep-set  eyes  surveyed 
her  he  realized  that  the  hour  had  come  for  a  fight  to 
the  finish. 

329 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

She  gazed  at  him  steadily  with  a  look  of  undisguised 
hate: 

"What  is  it?" 

He  took  a  step  closer,  planted  his  long  legs  apart  and 
met  her  greenish  eyes  with  an  answering  flash  of 
rage: 

"When  I  think  of  your  damned  impudence,  using  my 
typewriter  and  letterheads  to  send  an  invitation  to 
that  girl  to  spend  the  summer  here  with  Tom  at  home, 
and  signing  my  name " 

"I  have  the  right  to  use  your  name  with  her,"  she 
broke  in  with  a  sneer. 

"It  will  be  the  last  time  I'll  give  you  the  chance." 

"We'll  see,"  was  the  cool  reply. 

Norton  slowly  drew  a  chair  to  the  table,  seated  him 
self  and  said: 

"I  want  the  truth  from  you  now." 

"You'll  get  it.  I've  never  had  to  lie  to  you,  at 
least " 

"I've  no  time  to  bandy  words — will  you  tell  me  ex 
actly  what's  been  going  on  between  Tom  and  Helen 
during  my  absence  in  this  campaign?" 

"I  haven't  seen  anything!"  was  the  light  answer. 

His  lips  moved  to  say  that  she  lied,  but  he  smiled 
instead.  What  was  the  use?  He  dropped  his  voice  to 
a  careless,  friendly  tone: 

"They  have  seen  each  other  every  day?" 

"Certainly." 

"How  many  hours  have  they  usually  spent  to 
gether?" 

"I  didn't  count  them." 

Norton  bit  his  lips  to  keep  back  an  oath : 

"How  often  have  they  been  riding?" 
330 


THE   CHALLENGE 


"Perhaps  a  dozen  times." 

"They  returned  late  occasionally?" 

"Twice." 

"How  late?" 

"It  was  quite  dark " 

"What  time? — eight,  nine,  ten  or  eleven  o'clock?" 

"As  late  as  nine  one  night,  half-past  nine  another — 
the  moon  was  shining."  She  said  it  with  a  taunting 
smile. 

"Were  they  alone?" 

"Yes." 

"You  took  pains  to  leave  them  alone,  I  suppose?" 

"Sometimes" — she  paused  and  looked  at  him  with  a 
smile  that  was  a  sneer.  "What  are  you  afraid 
of?" 

He  returned  her  gaze  steadily : 

"Anything  is  possible  of  your  daughter — the  thought 
of  it  strangles  me!" 

Cleo  laughed  lightly: 

"Then  all  you've  got  to  do  is  to  speak — tell  Tom 
the  truth." 

"I'll  die  first!"  he  fiercely  replied.  "At  least  I've 
taught  him  racial  purity.  I've  been  true  to  my  promise 
to  the  dead  in  this.  He  shall  never  know  the  depths  to 
which  I  once  fell!  You  have  robbed  me  of  everything 
else  in  life,  this  boy's  love  and  respect  is  all  that  you've 
left  me" — he  stopped,  his  breast  heaving  with  sup 
pressed  passion.  "Why — why  did  you  bring  that  girl 
into  this  house?" 

"I  wished  to  see  her — that's  enough.  For  twenty 
years.  I've  lived  here  as  a  slave,  always  waiting 
and  hoping  for  a  sign  from  you  that  you  were  hu 
man " 

331 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"For  a  sign  that  I'd  sink  again  to  your  level !  Well, 
I  found  out  twenty  years  ago  that  beneath  the  skin  of 
every  man  sleeps  an  ape  and  a  tiger — I  fought  that 
battle  and  won " 

"And  I  have  lost?" 

"Yes." 

"Perhaps  I  haven't  begun  to  fight  yet." 

"I  shouldn't  advise  you  to  try  it.  I  know  now  that 
I  made  a  tragic  blunder  when  I  brought  you  back  into 
this  house.  I've  cursed  myself  a  thousand  times  that 
I  didn't  put  the  ocean  between  us.  If  my  boy  hadn't 
loved  you,  if  he  hadn't  slipped  his  little  arms  around 
your  neck  and  clung  to  you  sobbing  out  the  loneliness 
of  his  hungry  heart — if  I  hadn't  seen  the  tears  in  your 
own  eyes  and  known  that  you  had  saved  his  life  once — 
I  wouldn't  have  made  the  mistake  that  I  did.  But  I 
gave  you  my  word,  and  I've  lived  up  to  it.  I've  reared 
and  educated  your  child  and  given  you  the  protection 
of  my  home " 

"Yes,"  she  broke  in,  "that  you  might  watch  and 
guard  me  and  know  that  your  secret  was  safely  kept 
while  you've  grown  to  hate  me  each  day  with  deeper 
and  fiercer  hatred — God! — I've  wondered  sometimes 
that  you  haven't  killed  me !" 

Norton's  voice  sank  to  a  whisper : 

"I've  wondered  sometimes,  too" — a  look  of  anguish 
swept  his  face — "but  I  gave  you  my  word,  and  I've 
kept  it." 

"Because  you  had  to  keep  it!" 

He  sprang  to  his  feet: 

"Had  to  keep  it — you  say  that  to  me?" 

"I  do." 

"This  house  is  still  mine " 

332 


THE   CHALLENGE 


"But  your  past  is  mine!"  she  cried  with  a  look  of 
triumph. 

"Indeed!  We'll  see.  Helen  leaves  this  house  im 
mediately." 

"She  shall  not!" 

"You  refuse  to  obey  my  orders?" 

"And  what's  more,"  she  cried  with  angry  menace,  "I 
refuse  to  allow  you  to  put  her  out !" 

"To  allow?" 

"I  said  it!" 

"So  I  am  your  servant?  I  must  ask  your  permis 
sion? — God! "  he  sprang  angrily  toward  the  bell 

and  Cleo  stepped  defiantly  before  him: 

"Don't  you  touch  that  bell " 

Norton  thrust  her  aside: 

"Get  out  of  my  way !" 

"Ring  that  bell  if  you  dare !"  she  hissed. 

"Dare?" 

The  woman  drew  her  form  erect : 

"If  you  dare!  And  in  five  minutes  I'll  be  in  that 
newspaper  office  across  the  way  from  yours !  The  edi 
tor  doesn't  love  you.  To-morrow  morning  the  story  of 
your  life  and  mine  will  blaze  on  that  first  page !" 

Norton  caught  a  chair  for  support,  his  face  paled 
and  he  sank  slowly  to  a  seat. 

Cleo  leaned  toward  him,  trembling  with  passion : 

"I'll  give  you  fair  warning.  There  are  plenty  of 
negroes  to-day  your  equal  in  wealth  and  culture.  Do 
you  think  they  have  been  listening  to  their  great  leader's 
call  to  battle  for  nothing — building  fine  houses,  buying 
land,  piling  up  money,  sending  their  sons  and  daugh 
ters  to  college,  to  come  at  your  beck  and  call?  You're 
a  fool  if  you  do.  They  are  only  waiting  their  chance 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

to  demand  social  equality  and  get  it.  Wealth  and  cul- 
ture  will  give  it  in  the  end,  ballot  or  no  ballot.  Once 
rich,  white  men  and  women  will  come  at  their  com- 
mand.  I've  got  my  chance  now  to  demand  my  rights 
of  you  and  do  a  turn  for  the  negro  race.  You've  got  to 
recognize  Helen  before  your  son.  I've  brought  her 
here  for  that  purpose.  With  her  by  my  side,  I'll  be 
the  mistress  of  this  house.  Now  resign  your  leadership 
and  get  out  of  this  campaign!" 

With  a  stamp  of  her  foot  she  ended  her  mad  speech  in 
sharp, high  tones,  turned  quickly  and  started  to  the  door. 

Between  set  teeth  Norton  growled: 

"And  you  think  that  I'll  submit?" 

The  woman  wheeled  suddenly  and  rushed  back  to 
his  side,  her  eyes  flaming: 

"You've  got  to  submit — you've  got  to  submit — or 
begin  with  me  a  fight  that  can  only  end  in  your  ruin ! 
I've  nothing  to  lose,  and  I  tell  you  now  that  I'll  fight  to 
win,  I'll  fight  to  kill!  I'll  ask  no  quarter  of  you  and 
I'll  give  none.  I'll  fight  with  every  ounce  of  strength 
I've  got,  body  and  soul — and  if  I  lose  I'll  still  have 
strength  enough  left  to  pull  you  into  hell  with  me !" 

Her  voice  broke  in  a  sob,  she  pulled  herself  together, 
straightened  her  figure  and  cried: 

"Now  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  What  are  you  go 
ing  to  do?  Accept  my  terms  or  fight?" 

Norton's  face  was  livid,  his  whole  being  convulsed 
as  he  leaped  to  his  feet  and  confronted  her: 

"I'll  fight!" 

"All  right !  All  right !"  she  said  with  hysterical  pas 
sion,  backing  toward  the  door.  "I've  warned  you  now 
— I  didn't  want  to  fight — but  I'll  show  you — I'll  show 
you !" 

334 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A  SKIRMISH 

NORTON'S  fighting  blood  was  up,  but  he  was  too  good 
a  soldier  and  too  good  a  commander  to  rush  into  bat 
tle  without  preparation.  Cleo's  mask  was  off  at  last, 
and  he  knew  her  too  well  to  doubt  that  she  would  try  to 
make  good  her  threat.  The  fire  of  hate  that  had  flamed 
in  her  greenish  eyes  was  not  a  sudden  burst  of  anger, 
it  had  been  smoldering  there  for  years,  eating  its  way 
into  the  fiber  of  her  being. 

There  were  three  courses  open. 

He  could  accept  her  demand,  acknowledge  Helen  to 
his  son,  establish  her  in  his  home,  throw  his  self-respect 
to  the  winds  and  sink  to  the  woman's  level.  It  was 
unthinkable !  Besides,  the  girl  would  never  recover 
from  the  shock.  She  would  disappear  or  take  her  own 
life.  He  felt  it  with  instinctive  certainty.  But  the 
thing  which  made  such  a  course  impossible  was  the  fact 
that  it  meant  his  daily  degradation  before  the  boy. 
He  would  face  death  without  a  tremor  sooner  than 
this. 

He  could  defy  Cleo  and  pack  Helen  off  to  Europe 
on  the  next  steamer,  and  risk  a  scandal  that  would 
shake  the  state,  overwhelm  the  party  he  was  leading, 
disgrace  him  not  only  before  his  son  but  before  the 
world,  and  set  back  the  cause  he  had  at  heart  for  a 
generation. 

335 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 


It  was  true  she  might  weaken  when  confronted  with 
the  crisis  that  would  mean  the  death  of  her  own  hopes. 
Yet  the  risk  was  too  great  to  act  on  such  a  possibility. 
Her  defiance  had  in  it  all  the  elements  of  finality,  and 
he  had  accepted  it  as  final. 

The  simpler  alternative  was  a  temporary  solution 
which  would  give  him  time  to  think  and  get  his  bear 
ings.  He  could  return  to  the  campaign  immediately, 
take  Tom  with  him,  keep  him  in  the  field  every  day 
until  the  election,  ask  Helen  to  stay  until  his  return, 
and  after  his  victory  had  been  achieved  settle  with  the 
woman. 

It  was  the  wisest  course  for  many  reasons,  and 
among  them  not  the  least  that  it  would  completely  puz 
zle  Cleo  as  to  his  ultimate  decision. 

He  rang  for  Andy : 

"Ask  Mr.  Tom  to  come  here." 

Andy  bowed  and  Norton  resumed  his  seat. 

When  Tom  entered,  the  father  spoke  with  quick  de 
cision  : 

"The  situation  in  this  campaign,  my  boy,  is  tense 
and  dangerous.  I  want  you  to  go  with  me  to-morrow 
and  stay  to  the  finish." 

Tom  flushed  and  there  was  a  moment's  pause: 

"Certainly,  Dad,  if  you  wish  it." 

"We'll  start  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  and 
drive  through  the  country  to  the  next  appointment. 
Fix  your  business  at  the  office  this  afternoon,  place  your 
men  in  charge  and  be  ready  to  leave  promptly  at  eight. 
I've  some  important  writing  to  do.  I'm  going  to  lock 
myself  in  my  room  until  it's  done.  See  that  I'm  not 
disturbed  except  to  send  Andy  up  with  my  supper.  I'll 
not  finish  before  midnight." 


A   SKIRMISH 


"I'll  see  to  it,  sir,"  Tom  replied,  turned  and  was 
gone. 

The  father  had  watched  the  boy  with  keen  scrutiny 
every  moment  and  failed  to  catch  the  slightest  trace 
of  resentment  or  of  hesitation.  The  pause  he  had 
made  on  receiving  the  request  was  only  an  instant  of 
natural  surprise. 

Before  leaving  next  morning  he  sent  for  Helen  who 
had  not  appeared  at  breakfast. 

She  hastened  to  answer  his  summons  and  he  found 
no  trace  of  anger,  resentment  or  rebellion  in  her  gentle 
face.  Every  vestige  of  the  shadow  he  had  thrown  over 
her  life  seem  to  have  lifted.  A  tender  smile  played 
about  her  lips  as  she  entered  the  room. 

"You  sent  for  me,  major?"  she  asked  with  the  slight 
est  tremor  of  timidity  in  her  voice. 

"Yes,"  he  answered  gravely.  "I  wish  you  to  remain 
here  until  Tom  and  I  return.  We'll  have  a  conference 
then  about  your  future." 

"Thank  you,"  she  responded  simply. 

"I  trust  you  will  not  find  yourself  unhappy  or  embar 
rassed  in  remaining  here  alone  until  we  return?" 

"Certainly  not,  major,  if  it  is  your  wish,"  was  the 
prompt  response. 

He  bowed  and  murmured: 

"I'll  see  you  soon." 

Tom  waved  his  hand  from  the  buggy  when  his  father's 
back  was  turned  and  threw  her  an  audacious  kiss  over 
his  head  as  the  tall  figure  bent  to  climb  into  the  seat. 
The  girl  answered  with  another  from  her  finger  tips 
which  he  caught  with  a  smile. 

Norton's  fears  of  Tom  were  soon  at  rest  at  the  sight 
of  his  overflowing  boyish  spirits.  He  had  entered  into 

337 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

the  adventure  of  the  campaign  from  the  moment  he 
found  himself  alone  with  his  father,  and  apparently 
without  reservation. 

Through  every  one  of  his  exciting  speeches,  when 
surrounded  by  hostile  crowds,  the  father  had  watched 
Tom's  face  with  a  subconscious  smile.  At  the  slightest 
noise,  the  shuffle  of  a  foot,  the  mutter  of  a  drunken 
word,  or  the  movement  of  a  careless  listener,  the  keen 
eyes  of  the  boy  had  flashed  and  his  right  arm  instinc 
tively  moved  toward  his  hip  pocket. 

When  the  bitter  struggle  had  ended,  father  and  son 
had  drawn  closer  than  ever  before  in  life.  They  had 
become  chums  and  comrades. 

Norton  had  planned  his  tour  to  keep  him  out  of  town 
until  after  the  polls  closed  on  the  day  of  election.  They 
had  spent  several  nights  within  fifteen  or  twenty  miles 
of  the  Capital,  but  had  avoided  home. 

He  had  planned  to  arrive  at  the  speaker's  stand  in 
the  Capitol  Square  in  time  to  get  the  first  returns  of 
the  election. 

Five  thousand  people  were  packed  around  the  bulletin 
board  when  they  arrived  on  a  delayed  train. 

The  first  returns  indicated  that  the  leader's  daring 
platform  had  swept  the  state  by  a  large  maj  ority .  The 
negro  race  had  been  disfranchised  and  the  ballot  re 
stored  to  its  original  dignity.  And  much  more  had 
been  done.  The  act  was  purely  political,  but  its  effects 
on  the  relations,  mental  and  moral  and  physical,  of  the 
two  races,  so  evenly  divided  in  the  South,  would  be 
tremendous. 

The  crowds  of  cheering  men  and  women  felt  this 
instinctively,  though  it  had  not  as  yet  found  expression 
in  words. 


A   SKIRMISH 


A  half-dozen  stalwart  men  with  a  rush  and  a  shout 
seized  Norton  and  lifted  him,  blushing  and  protesting, 
carried  him  on  their  shoulders  through  the  yelling  crowd 
and  placed  him  on  the  platform. 

He  had  scarcely  begun  his  speech  when  Tom,  watch 
ing  his  chance,  slipped  hurriedly  through  the  throng 
and  flew  to  the  girl  who  was  waiting  with  beating  heart 
for  the  sound  of  his  footstep. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

LOVE    LAUGHS 

WHEN  Helen  had  received  a  brief  note  from  Tom  the 
night  before  the  election  that  he  would  surely  reach 
home  the  next  day,  she  snatched  his  picture  from  the 
library  table  with  a  cry  of  joy  and  rushed  to  her 
room. 

She  placed  the  little  gold  frame  on  her  bureau,  sat 
down  before  it  and  poured  out  her  heart  in  silly  speeches 
of  love,  pausing  to  laugh  and  kiss  the  glass  that  saved 
the  miniature  from  ruin.  The  portrait  was  an  ex 
quisite  work  of  art  on  ivory  which  the  father  had  com- 
misioned  a  painter  in  New  York  to  do  in  celebration 
of  Tom's  coming  of  age.  The  artist  had  caught  the 
boy's  spirit  in  the  tender  smile  that  played  about  his 
lips  and  lingered  in  the  corners  of  his  blue  eyes,  the 
same  eyes  and  lips  in  line  and  color  in  the  dainty  little 
mother's  portrait  over  the  mantel. 

"Oh,  you  big,  handsome,  brave,  glorious  boy!"  she 
cried  in  ecstasy.  "My  sweetheart — so  generous,  so 
clean,  so  strong,  so  free  in  soul !  I  love  you — I  love  you 
— I  love  you !" 

She  fell  asleep  at  last  with  the  oval  frame  clasped 
tight  in  one  hand  thrust  under  her  pillow.  A  sound 
sleep  was  impossible,  the  busy  brain  was  too  active. 
Again  and  again  she  waked  with  a  start,  thinking  she 
had  heard  his  swift  footfall  on  the  stoop. 


LOVE   LAUGHS 


At  daybreak  she  leaped  to  her  feet  and  found  her 
self  in  the  middle  of  the  room  laughing  when  she  came 
to  herself,  the  precious  picture  still  clasped  in  her 
hand. 

''Oh,  foolish  heart,  wake  up !"  she  cried  with  another 
:  viigh.  "It's  dawn,  and  my  lover  is  coming!  It's  his 
<lc.y!  No  more  sleep — it's  too  wonderful!  I'm  going 
to  count  every  hour  until  I  hear  his  step — every  minute 
of  every  hour,  foolish  heart !" 

She  looked  out  the  window  and  it  was  raining.  The 
overhanging  boughs  of  the  oaks  were  dripping  on  the 
tin  roof  of  the  bay  window  in  which  she  was  standing. 
She  had  dreamed  of  a  wonderful  sunrise  this  morning. 
But  it  didn't  matter — the  rain  didn't  matter.  The  slow, 
familiar  dropping  on  the  roof  suggested  the  nearness 
of  her  lover.  They  would  sit  in  some  shadowy  corner 
hand  in  hand  and  love  all  the  more  tenderly.  The 
raindrops  were  the  drum  beat  of  a  band  playing  the 
march  that  was  bringing  him  nearer  with  each  throb. 
The  mocking-bird  that  had  often  waked  her  with  his 
song  was  silent,  hovering  somewhere  in  a  tree  be 
neath  the  thick  leaves.  She  had  expected  him  to 
call  her  to-day  with  the  sweetest  lyric  he  had  ever 
sung.  Somehow  it  didn't  matter.  Her  soul 
was  singing  the  song  that  makes  all  other  music 
dumb. 

"My  love  is  coming!"  she  murmured  joyfully.  "My 
love  is  coming!" 

And  then  she  stood  for  an  hour  in  brooding,  happy 
silence  and  watched  the  ghostlike  trees  come  slowly  out 
of  the  mists.  To  her  shining  eyes  there  were  no  mists. 
The  gray  film  that  hung  over  the  waking  world  was 
a  bridal  veil  hiding  the  blushing  face  of  the  earth  from 

341 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

the  sun-god  lover  who  was  on  his  way  over  the  hills  to 
clasp  her  in  his  burning  arms ! 

For  the  first  time  in  her  memory  she  was  supremely 
happy. 

Every  throb  of  pain  that  belonged  to  the  past  was 
lost  in  the  sea  of  joy  on  which  her  soul  had  set  sail. 
In  the  glory  of  his  love  pain  was  only  another  name 
for  joy.  All  she  had  suffered  was  but  the  preparation 
for  this  supreme  good.  It  was  all  the  more  wonderful, 
this  fairy  world  into  which  she  had  entered,  because  the 
shadows  had  been  so  deep  in  her  lonely  childhood. 

There  really  hadn't  been  any  past!  She  couldn't 
remember  the  time  she  had  not  known  and  loved  Tom. 
Love  filled  the  universe,  past,  present  and  future. 
There  was  no  task  too  hard  for  her  hands,  no  danger 
she  was  not  ready  to  meet.  The  hungry  heart  had 
found  its  own. 

Through  the  long  hours  of  the  day  she  waited  with 
out  impatience.  Each  tick  of  the  tiny  clock  on  the 
mantel  brought  him  nearer.  The  hands  couldn't  turn 
back !  She  watched  them  with  a  smile  as  she  sat  in  the 
gathering  twilight. 

She  had  placed  the  miniature  back  in  its  place  and 
sat  where  her  eye  caught  the  smile  from  his  lips  when 
she  lifted  her  head  from  the  embroidery  on  her  lap. 

The  band  was  playing  a  stirring  strain  in  the  Square. 
She  could  hear  the  tumult  and  the  shouts  of  the  crowds 
about  the  speaker's  stand  as  they  read  the  bulletins  of 
the  election.  The  darkness  couldn't  hold  him  many 
more  minutes. 

She  rose  with  a  soft  laugh  and  turned  on  the  lights, 
walked  to  the  window,  looked  out  and  listened  to  the 
roar  of  the  cheering  when  Norton  made  his  appear- 


LOVE   LAUGHS 


ance.    The  band  struck  up  another  stirring  piece.    Yes, 
it  was  "Hail  to  the  Chief !"     He  had  come. 

She  counted  the  minutes  it  would  take  for  him  to 
elude  his  father  and  reach  the  house.  She  pictured  the 
smile  on  his  face  as  he  threaded  his  way  through  the 
throng  and  started  to  her  on  swift  feet.  She  could  see 
him  coming  with  the  long,  quick  stride  he  had  inherited 
from  his  father. 

She  turned  back  into  the  room  exclaiming: 

"Oh,  foolish  heart,  be  still!" 

She  seated  herself  again  and  waited  patiently,  a 
smile  about  the  corners  of  her  lips  and  another  play 
ing  hide  and  seek  in  the  depths  of  her  expressive  eyes. 

Tom  had  entered  the  house  unobserved  by  any  one  and 
softly  tipped  into  the  library  from  the  door  directly 
behind  her.  He  paused,  removed  his  hat,  dropped  it 
silently  into  a  chair  and  stood  looking  at  the  graceful, 
beautiful  form  bending  over  her  work.  The  picture  of 
this  waiting  figure  he  had  seen  in  his  day-dreams  a 
thousand  times  and  yet  it  was  so  sweet  and  wonderful 
he  had  to  stop  and  drink  in  the  glory  of  it  for  a  mo 
ment. 

A  joyous  laugh  was  bubbling  in  his  heart  as  he 
tipped  softly  over  the  thick  yielding  rug  and  slipped  his 
hands  over  her  eyes.  His  voice  was  the  gentlest  whisper : 

"Guess?" 

The  white  figure  slowly  rose  and  her  words  came  in 
little  ripples  of  gasping  laughter  as  she  turned  and 
lifted  her  arms : 

"It's— it's— Tom !" 

With  a  smothered  cry  she  was  on  his  breast.  He 
held  her  long  and  close  without  a  word.  His  voice 
had  a  queer  hitch  in  it  as  he  murmured : 

343 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"Helen — my   darling!" 

"Oh,  I  thought  you'd  never  come!"  she  sighed,  look 
ing  up  through  her  tears. 

Tom  held  her  off  and  gazed  into  her  eyes : 

"It's  been  a  century  since  I've  seen  you!  I  did 
my  level  best  when  we  got  into  these  nearby  counties 
again,  but  I  couldn't  shake  Dad  once  this  week.  He 
watched  me  like  a  hawk  and  insisted  on  staying  out  of 
town  till  the  very  last  hour  of  the  election  to-day.  Did 
old  Andy  find  out  I  slipped  in  last  week?" 

"No!"  she  laughed. 

"Did  Cleo  find  it  out?" 

"No." 

"You're  sure  Cleo  didn't  find  out?" 

"Sure — but  Aunt  Minerva  did." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  afraid  of  her — kiss  me !" 

With  a  glad  cry  their  lips  met. 

He  held  her  off. 

"I'm  not  afraid  of   anything!" 

With  an  answering  laugh,  she  kissed  him  again. 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  Dad!"  he  said  in  tones  of  mock 
tragedy.  "Once  more!" 

She  gently  disengaged  herself,  asking: 

"How  did  you  get  away  from  him  so  quickly?" 

"Oh,  he's  making  a  speech  to  the  crowd  in  the  Square 
proclaiming  victory  and  so" — his  voice  fell  to  a  whis 
per — "I  flew  to  celebrate  mine!" 

"Won't  he  miss   you?" 

"Not  while  he's  talking.  Dad  enjoys  an  eloquent 
speech — especially  one  of  his  own " 

He  stopped  abruptly,  took  a  step  toward  her  and 
cried : 

"Say!     Do  you  know  what  the  Governor  of  North 

344 


LOVE   LAUGHS 


Carolina  said  once  upon  a  time  to  the  Governor  of 
South  Carolina?" 

Helen  laughed: 

"What?" 

He  opened  his  arms: 

"  'It  strikes  me,'  said  he,  'that  it's  a  long  time  be 
tween  drinks !' ' 

Again  her  arms  flashed  around  his  neck. 

"Did  you  miss  me?" 

"Dreadfully!"  she  sighed.  "But  I've  been  happy — 
happy  in  your  love — oh,  so  happy,  dearest !" 

"Well,  if  Dad  wins  this  election  to-night,"  he  said 
with  a  boyish  smile,  "I'm  going  to  tell  him.  Now's  the 
time — no  more  slipping  and  sliding!" — he  paused, 
rushed  to  the  window  and  looked  out — "come,  the  clouds 
have  lifted  and  the  moon  is  rising.  Our  old  seat  among 
the  roses  is  waiting." 

With  a  look  of  utter  happiness  she  slipped  her  arm 
in  his  and  they  strolled  across  the  lawn. 


345 


CHAPTER  XIX 

"FIGHT  IT  OUT!" 

CLEO  had  heard  the  shouts  in  the  square  with  in 
creasing  dread.  The  hour  was  rapidly  approaching 
when  she  must  face  Norton. 

She  had  deeply  regretted  the  last  scene  with  him 
when  she  had  completely  lost  her  head.  For  the  first 
time  in  her  life  she  had  dared  to  say  things  that  could 
not  be  forgiven.  They  had  lived  an  armed  truce  for 
twenty  years.  She  had  endured  it  in  the  hope  of  a 
change  in  his  attitude,  but  she  had  driven  him  to  un 
controllable  fury  now  by  her  angry  outburst  and  spoken 
words  that  could  not  be  unsaid. 

She  realized  when  too  late  that  he  would  never 
forgive  these  insults.  And  she  began  to  wonder  nerv 
ously  what  form  his  revenge  would  take.  That  he 
had  matured  a  definite  plan  of  hostile  action  which  he 
would  put  into  force  on  his  arrival,  she  did  not 
doubt. 

Why  had  she  been  so  foolish?  She  asked  herself  the 
question  a  hundred  times.  And  yet  the  clash  was  in 
evitable.  She  could  not  see  Helen  packed  off  to  Europe 
and  her  hopes  destroyed  at  a  blow.  She  might  have 
stopped  him  with  something  milder  than  a  threat  of 
exposure  in  his  rival's  paper.  That  was  the  mad  thing 
she  had  done. 

What  effect  this  threat  had  produced  on  his  mind 

34(5 


"FIGHT   IT   OUT!" 


she  could  only  guess.  But  she  constantly  came  back  to 
it  with  increasing  fear.  If  he  should  accept  her  chal 
lenge,  dare  her  to  speak,  and,  weary  of  the  constant 
strain  of  her  presence  in  his  house,  put  her  out,  it 
meant  the  end  of  the  world.  She  had  lived  so  long 
in  dependence  on  his  will,  the  thought  of  beginning  life 
again  under  new  conditions  of  humiliating  service  was 
unthinkable. 

She  could  only  wait  now  until  the  blow  fell,  and  ad 
just  herself  to  the  situation  as  best  she  could.  That 
she  had  the  power  to  lay  his  life  in  ruins  and  break 
Tom's  heart  she  had  never  doubted.  Yet  this  was  the 
one  thing  she  did  not  wish  to  do.  It  meant  too  much 
to  her. 

She  walked  on  the  porch  and  listened  again  to  the 
tumult  in  the  Square.  She  had  seen  Tom  enter  the 
house  on  tip-toe  and  knew  that  the  lovers  were  together 
and  smiled  in  grim  triumph.  That  much  of  her  scheme 
had  not  failed !  It  only  remained  to  be  seen  whether, 
with  their  love  an  accomplished  fact,  she  could  wring 
from  Norton's  lips  the  confession  she  had  demanded  and 
save  her  own  skin  in  the  crash. 

Andy  had  entered  the  gate  and  she  heard  him  bustling 
in  the  pantry  as  Tom  and  Helen  strolled  on  the  lawn. 
The  band  in  the  Square  was  playing  their  star  piece  of 
rag-time  music,  "A  Georgia  Campmeeting." 

The  stirring  refrain  echoed  over  the  sleepy  old  town 
with  a  weird  appeal  to-night.  It  had  the  ring  of  martial 
music — of  hosts  shouting  their  victory  as  they  marched. 
They  were  playing  it  with  unusual  swinging  power. 

She  turned  with  a  gesture  of  impatience  into  the 
house  to  find  Andy.  He  was  carrying  a  tray  of  mint 
juleps  into  the  library. 

347 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

Cleo  looked  at  him  in  amazement,  suppressed  an 
angry  exclamation  and  asked: 

"What's  that  band  playing  for?" 

"White  folks  celebratin'  de  victory!"  he  replied  en 
thusiastically,  placing  the  tray  on  the  table. 

"It's  only  seven  o'clock.  The  election  returns  can't 
be  in  yet?" 

"Yassam !    Hit's  all  over  but  de  shoutin' !" 

Cleo  moved  a  step  closer: 

"The  major  has  won?" 

"Yassam!  Yassam!"  Andy  answered  with  loud  good 
humor,  as  he  began  to  polish  a  glass  with  a  napkin. 
"Yassam,  I  des  come  frum  dar.  De  news  done  come 
in.  Dey  hain't  gwine  ter  'low  de  niggers  ter  vote  no 
mo',  'ceptin  they  kin  read  an'  write — an'  den  dey  won't 
let  'em!" 

He  held  one  of  the  shining  glasses  up  to  the  light,  ex 
amined  it  with  judicial  care  and  continued  in  tones  of 
resignation : 

"Don't  make  no  diffrunce  ter  me,  dough! — I  hain't 
nebber  got  nuttin'  fer  my  vote  nohow,  'ceptin'  once 
when  er  politicioner  shoved  er  box  er  cigars  at  me" — 
he  chuckled — "an'  den,  by  golly,  I  had  ter  be  a  gem- 
man,  I  couldn't  grab  er  whole  handful — I  des  tuck 
four!" 

Cleo  moved  impatiently  and  glared  at  the  tray: 

"What  on  earth  did  you  bring  all  that  stuff  for? 
The  whole  mob  are  not  coming  here,  are  they?" 

"Nobum — nobum!  Nobody  but  de  major,  but  I  'low 
dat  he  gwine  ter  consume  some !  He's  on  er  high  hoss. 
Dey's  'bout  ten  thousand  folks  up  dar  in  de  Square. 
De  boys  carry  de  major  on  dere  back  to  de  flatform 
an'  he  make  'em  a  big  speech.  Dey  sho  is  er-raisin'  er 

348 


'FIGHT   IT   OUT!' 


mighty  humbug.  Dey  gwine  ter  celebrate  all  night  out 
dar,  an'  gwine  ter  serenade  everybody  in  town.  But 
de  major  comin'  right  home.  Dey  try  ter  git  him  ter 
stay  wid  'em,  but  he  'low  dat  he  got  some  'portant  busi 
ness  here  at  de  house." 

"Important  business  here?"  she  asked  anxiously. 

"Yassam,  I  spec  him  any  minute." 

Cleo  turned  quickly  toward  the  door  and  Andy  called : 

"Miss  Cleo !" 

She  continued  to  go  without  paying  any  attention 
and  he  repeated  his  call: 

"Miss   Cleo!" 

She  paused  indifferently,  while  Andy  touched  his  lips 
smiling : 

"I  got  my  mouf  shet!" 

"Does  it  pain  you?" 

"Nobum !"  he  laughed. 

"Keep  it  shut!"  she  replied  contemptuously  as  she 
again  moved  toward  the  door. 

"Yassam — yassam — but  ain't  yer  got  nuttin'  mo* 
dan  dat  ter  say  ter  me?" 

He  asked  this  question  with  a  rising  inflection  that 
might  mean  a  threat. 

The  woman  walked  back  to  him : 

"Prove  your  love  by  a  year's  silence " 

"De  Lawd  er  mussy!"  Andy  gasped.  "A  whole 
year?" 

"Am  I  not  worth  waiting  for?"  she  asked  with  a 
smile. 

"Yassam — yassam,"  he  replied  slowly,  "Jacob  he  wait 
seben  years  an'  den,  by  golly,  de  ole  man  cheat  him 
outen  his  gal!  But  ef  yer  say  so,  I'se  er-waitin', 

honey " 

349 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

Andy  placated,  her  mind  returned  in  a  fl^sh  to  the 
fear  that  haunted  her: 

"He  said  important  business  here  at  once?" 

The  gate  closed  with  a  vigorous  slam  and  the  echo 
of  Norton's  step  was  heard  on  the  gravel  walk. 

"Yassam,  dar  he  is  now." 

Cleo  trembled  and  hurried  to  the  opposite  door: 

"If  the  major  asks  for  me,  tell  him  I've  gone  to 
the  meeting  in  the  Square." 

She  passed  quickly  from  the  room  in  a  panic  of  fear. 
She  couldn't  meet  him  in  this  condition.  She  must 
wait  a  better  moment. 

Andy,  arranging  his  tray,  began  to  mix  three  mint 
juleps,  humming  a  favorite  song: 

"Dis  time  er-nudder  year. 
Oh,  Lawd,  how  long! 
In  some  lonesome  graveyard — 
Woh,  Lawd,  how  long!" 

Norton  paused  on  the  threshold  with  a  smile  and 
listened  to  the  foolish  melody.  His  whole  being  was 
quivering  with  the  power  that  thrilled  from  a  great 
act  of  will.  He  had  just  made  a  momentous  decision. 
His  work  in  hand  was  done.  He  had  lived  for  years  in 
an  atmosphere  poisoned  by  a  yellow  venomous  presence. 
He  had  resolved  to  be  free ! — no  matter  what  the  cost. 

His  mind  flew  to  the  boy  he  had  grown  to  love  with 
deeper  tenderness  the  past  weeks.  The  only  thing  he 
really  dreaded  was  his  humiliation  before  those  blue 
eyes.  But,  if  the  worst  came  to  worst,  he  must  speak. 
There  were  things  darker  than  death — the  consciousness 
to  a  proud  and  sensitive  man  that  he  was  the  slave 
to  an  inferior  was  one  of  them.  He  had  to  be  free 

350 


'FIGHT   IT   OUT!1 


— free  at  any  cost.     The  thought  was  an  inspiration. 

With  brisk  step  he  entered  the  library  and  glanced 
with  surprise  at  the  empty  room. 

"Tom  not  come?"  he  asked  briskly. 

"Nasah,  I  ain't  seed  'im,"  Andy  replied. 

Norton  threw  his  linen  coat  on  a  chair,  and  a  dreamy 
look  came  into  his  deep-set  eyes : 

"Well,  Andy,  we've  made  a  clean  sweep  to-day — the 
old  state's  white  again!" 

The  negro,  bustling  over  his  tray,  replied  with  unc 
tion: 

"Yassah,  dat's  what  I  done  tole  'em,  sah !" 

"All  government  rests  on  force,  Andy !  The  ballot  is 
force — physical  force.  Back  of  every  ballot  is  a 
gun " 

He  paused,  drew  the  revolver  slowly  from  his  pocket 
and  held  it  in  his  hand. 

Andy  glanced  up  from  his  tray  and  jumped  in 
alarm : 

"Yassah,  dat's  so,  sah — in  dese  parts  sho,  sah!"  he 
ended  his  speech  by  a  good-natured  laugh  at  the  ex 
pense  of  the  country  that  allowed  itself  to  be  thus  in 
timidated. 

Norton  lifted  the  gleaming  piece  of  steel  and  looked 
at  it  thoughtfully : 

"Back  of  every  ballot  a  gun  and  the  red  blood  of  the 
man  who  holds  it!  No  freeman  ever  yet  voted  away 
his  right  to  a  revolution " 

"Yassah — dat's  what  I  tells  dem  niggers — you  gwine 
ter  giv  'em  er  dose  er  de  revolution " 

"Well,  it's  done  now  and  I've  no  more  use  for  this 
thing— thank  God !" 

He  crossed  to  the  writing  desk,  laid  the  revolver  on 
351 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

its  top  and  walked  to  the  lounge  his  face  set  with  a 
look  of  brooding  intensity: 

"Bah!  The  big  battles  are  all  fought  inside,  Andy! 
There's  where  the  brave  die  and  cowards  run — in 
side " 

"Yassah! — I  got  de  stuff  right  here  fer  de  inside, 
sah !"  he  held  up  the  decanter  with  a  grin. 

"From  to-night  my  work  outside  is  done,"  Norton 
went  on  moodily.  "And  I'm  going  to  be  free — free! 
I'm  no  longer  afraid  of  one  of  my  servants " 

He  dropped  into  a  seat  and  closed  his  fists  with  a 
gesture  of  intense  emotion. 

Andy  looked  at  him  in  astonishment  and  asked  in 
credulously  : 

"Who  de  debbil  say  you'se  er  scared  of  any  nigger? 
Show  dat  man  ter  me — who  say  dat?" 

"I  say  it !"  was  the  bitter  answer.  He  had  been  think 
ing  aloud,  but  now  that  the  negro  had  heard  he  didn't 
care.  His  soul  was  sick  of  subterfuge  and  lies. 

Andy  laughed  apologetically  : 

"Yassah!  Cose,  sah,  ef  you  say  dat  hit's  so,  why  I 
say  hit's  so — but  all  de  same,  'twixt  you  an'  me,  I  knows 
tain't  so!" 

"But  from  to-night!"  Norton  cried,  ignoring  Andy 
as  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  looked  sharply  about  the 
room  : 

"Tell  Cleo  I  wish  to  see  her  at  once !" 

"She  gone  out  in  de  Squar  ter  hear  de  news,  sah." 

"The  moment  she  comes  let  me  know !"  he  said  with 
sharp  emphasis  and  turned  quickly  to  the  door. 

"Yassah,"  Andy  answered  watching  him  go  with 
amazement.  "De  Lawdy,  major,  you  ain't  gwine  off  an' 
leave  dese  mint  juleps  lak  dat,  is  ye?" 

352 


"FIGHT   IT   OUT!' 


Norton  retraced  a  step: 

"Yes,  from  to-night  I'm  the  master  of  my  house  and 
myself!" 

Andy  looked  at  the  tray  and  then  at  Norton: 

"Well,  sah,  yer  ain't  got  no  objections  to  me  pizinin' 
mysef,  is  ye?" 

The  master  surveyed  the  grinning  servant,  glanced 
at  the  tray,  smiled  and  said: 

"No — you'll  do  it  anyhow,  so  go  as  far  as  you  like !" 

"Yassah!"  the  negro  laughed  as  Norton  turned 
again.  "An'  please,  sah,  won't  yer  gimme  jes  a  little 
advice  befo'  you  go?" 

Norton  turned  a  puzzled  face  on  the  grinning  black 
one: 

"Advice?" 

"Yassah.  What  I  wants  ter  know,  major,  is  dis. 
Sposen,  sah,  dat  a  gemman  got  ter  take  his  choice 
twixt  marryin'  er  lady  dat's  forcin'  herself  on  'im, 
er  kill  hissef  ?" 

"Kill  her!" 

Andy  broke  into  a  loud  laugh : 

"Yassah!  but  she's  er  dangous  'oman,  sah!  She's  a 
fighter  from  Fightersville — an'  fuddermo',  sah,  I'se  en 
gaged  to  annudder  lady  at  the  same  time — an'  I'se  in 
lub  wid  dat  one  an'  skeered  er  de  fust  one." 

"Face  it,  then.  Confess  your  love  and  fight  it  out! 
Fight  it  out  and  let  them  fight  it  out.  You  like  to  see 
a  fight,  don't  you?" 

"Yassah!  Oh,  yassah,"  Andy  declared  bravely.  "I 
likes  ter  see  a  fight — I  likes  ter  see  de  fur  fly — but  I 
don't  care  'bout  furnishin'  none  er  de  fur !" 

Norton  had  reached  the  door  when  he  suddenly 
turned,  the  momentary  humor  of  his  play  with  the 

353 


THE  SINS   OF  THE   FATHER 

negro  gone  from  his  sombre  face,  the  tragedy  of  a  life 
speaking  in  every  tone  as  he  slowly  said: 

"Fight  it  out!  It's  the  only  thing  to  do— fight  it 
out !" 

Andy  stared  at  the  retreating  figure  dazed  by  the 
violence  of  passion  with  which  his  master  had  answered, 
wondering  vaguely  what  could  be  the  meaning  of  the 
threat  behind  his  last  words. 


354 


CHAPTER  XX 

ANDY    FIGHTS 

WHEN  Andy  had  recovered  from  his  surprise 
at  the  violence  of  Norton's  parting  advice  his  eye 
suddenly  rested  on  the  tray  of  untouched  mint 
juleps. 

A  broad  smile  broke  over  his  black  countenance: 

"Fight  it  out!  Fight  it  out!"  he  exclaimed  with  a 
quick  movement  toward  the  table.  "Yassah,  I'm  gwine 
do  it,  too,  I  is !" 

He  paused  before  the  array  of  filled  glasses  of  the 
iced  beverage,  saluted  silently,  and  raised  one  high 
over  his  head  to  all  imaginary  friends  who  might  be 
present.  His  eye  rested  on  the  portrait  of  General  Lee. 
He  bowed  and  saluted  again.  Further  on  hung  Stone 
wall  Jackson.  He  lifted  his  glass  to  him,  and  last  to 
Norton's  grandfather  in  his  blue  and  yellow  colonial 
regimentals.  He  pressed  the  glass  to  his  thirsty  lips 
and  waved  the  julep  a  jovial  farewell  with  the  palm  of 
his  left  hand  as  he  poured  it  gently  but  firmly  down 
to  the  last  drop. 

He  smacked  his  lips,  drew  a  long  breath  and 
sighed : 

"Put  ernuff  er  dat  stuff  inside  er  me,  I  kin  fight  er 
wil'cat !  Yassah,  an'  I  gwine  do  it.  I  gwine  ter  be 
rough  wid  her,  too  !  Rough  wid  her,  I  is !" 

He  seized  another  glass  and  drained  half  of  it,  drew 
355 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

himself  up  with  determination,  walked  to  the  door  lead 
ing  to  the  hall  toward  the  kitchen  and  called : 

"Miss  Minerva!" 

Receiving  no  answer,  he  returned  quickly  to  the  tray 
and  took  another  drink: 

"Rough  wid  her — dat's  de  way — rough  wid  her!" 

He  pulled  his  vest  down  with  a  vicious  jerk,  bravely 
took  one  step,  paused,  reached  back,  picked  up  his  glass 
again,  drained  it,  and  walked  to  the  door. 

"Miss  Minerva!"  he  called  loudly  and  fiercely. 

From  the  kitchen  came  the  answer  in  tender  tones : 

"Yas— honey!" 

Andy  retreated  hastily  to  the  table  and  took  another 
drink  before  the  huge  but  smiling  figure  appeared  in 
the  doorway. 

"Did  my  true  love  call?"  she  asked  softly. 

Andy  groaned,  grasped  a  glass  and  quickly  poured 
another  drink  of  Dutch  courage  down.  "Yassam,  Miss 
Minerva,  I  thought  I  hear  yer  out  dar " 

Minerva  giggled  as  lightly  as  she  could-  considering 
her  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds : 

"Yas,  honey,  Hit's  little  me !" 

Andy  had  begun  to  feel  the  bracing  effects  of  the 
two  full  glasses  of  mint  juleps.  He  put  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  walked  with  springing  strides  to  the  other 
end  of  the  room,  returned  and  squared  himself  impres 
sively  before  Minerva.  Before  he  could  speak  his  cour 
age  began  to  fail  and  he  stuttered : 

"M-M-M-Miss  Minerva!" 

The  good-humored,  shining  black  face  was  raised  in 
sharp  surprise: 

"What  de  matter  wid  you,  man,  er  hoppin'  roun'  over 
de  flo'  lak  er  flea  in  er  hot  skillet?" 

356 


ANDY   FIGHTS 


Andy  saw  that  the  time  had  come  when  he  must 
speak  unless  he  meant  to  again  ignominiously  surrender. 
He  began  boldly: 

"Miss  Minerva!  I  got  somethin'  scandalous  ter  say 
ter  you !" 

She  glared  at  him,  the  whites  of  her  eyes  shining 
ominously,  crossed  the  room  quickly  and  confronted 
Andy: 

"Don't  yer  dar'  say  nuttin'  scandalizin'  ter  me,  sah !" 

His  eyes  fell  and  he  moved  as  if  to  retreat.  She 
nudged  him  gently: 

"G'long,  man,  what  is  it?" 

He  took  courage: 

"I  got  ter  'fess  ter  you,  m'am,  dat  I'se  tangled  up 
wid  annuder  'oman!" 

The  black  face  suddenly  flashed  with  wrath,  and  her 
figure  was  electric  with  battle.  The  very  pores  of  her 
dusky  skin  seemed  to  radiate  war. 

"Who  bin  tryin'  ter  steal  you  ?"  she  cried.  "Des  sho' 
her  ter  me,  an'  we  see  who's  who !" 

Andy  waved  his  hands  in  a  conciliatory  self-accusing 
gesture : 

"Yassam — yassam !  But  I  make  er  fool  outen  myse'f 
about  her— hit's  Miss  Cleo !" 

"Cleo!"  Minerva  gasped,  staggering  back  until  her 
form  collided  with  the  table  and  rattled  the  glasses 
on  the  tray.  At  the  sound  of  the  tinkling  glass,  she 
turned,  grasped  a  mint  julep,  and  drank  the  whole  of  it 
at  a  single  effort. 

Andy,  who  had  been  working  on  a  figure  in  the  rug 
with  the  toe  of  his  shoe  during  his  confession,  looked  up, 
saw  that  she  had  captured  his  inspiration,  and  sprang 
back  in  alarm. 

357 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

Minerva  paused  but  a  moment  for  breath  and  rushed 
for  him: 

"Dat  jailer  Jezebel! — tryin'  ter  fling  er  spell  over 
you — but  I  gwine  ter  save  ye,  honey !" 
1       Andy  retreated  behind  the  lounge,  his  ample  protec 
tor  hot  on  his  heels: 

"Yassam !"  he  cried,  "but  I  don't  want  ter  be  saved !" 

Before  he  had  finished  the  plea,  she  had  pinned  him 
in  a  corner  and  cut  off  retreat. 

"Of  course  yer  don't !"  she  answered  generously.  "No 
po'  sinner  ever  does.  But  don't  yer  fret,  honey,  I'se 
gwine  ter  save  ye  in  spite  er  yosef !  Yer  needn't  ter 
kick,  yer  needn't  ter  scramble,  now's  de  time  ye  needs 
me,  an  I'se  gwine  ter  stan'  by  ye.  Nuttin'  kin  shake 
me  loose  now !" 

She  took  a  step  toward  him  and  he  vainly  tried  to 
dodge.  It  was  useless.  She  hurled  her  ample  form 
straight  on  him  and  lifted  her  arms  for  a  generous 
embrace : 

"Lordy,  man,  dat  make  me  lub  yer  er  hundred  times 
mo!" 

Andy  made  up  his  mind  in  a  sudden  burst  of  courage 
to  fight  for  his  life.  If  she  once  got  those  arms  about 
him  he  was  gone.  He  grasped  them  roughb7  and  stayed 
the  onset: 

"Yassam!"  he  answered  warningly.  "But  I  got  ter 
'fess  up  ter  you  now  de  whole  truf.  I  bin  er  deceivin' 
you  'bout  myself.  I'se  er  bad  nigger,  Miss  Minerva, 
an'  I  hain't  worthy  ter  be  you'  husban' !" 

"G'long,  chile,  I  done  know  dat  all  de  time!"  she 
laughed. 

Andy  walled  his  eyes  at  her  uneasily,  and  she  con 
tinued  : 

358 


ANDY   FIGHTS 


"But  I  likes  ter  hear  ye  talk  humble  dat  a  way- — hit's 
a  good  sign." 

He  shook  his  head  impatiently: 

"But  ye  don't  know  what  I  means !" 

"Why,  of  cose,  I  does !"  she  replied  genially.  "I 
always  knowed  dat  I  wuz  high  above  ye.  I'se  black,  but 
I'se  pure  ez  de  drivellin'  snow.  I  always  knowed,  honey, 
dat  ye  wern't  my  equal.  But  ye  can't  help  dat.  I'se 
er  born  'ristocrat.  My  mudder  was  er  African  prin 
cess.  My  grandmudder  wuz  er  queen — an*  I'se  er  ^ook  !" 

Andy  stamped  his  foot  with  angry  impatience  ; 

"Yassam — but  ye  git  dat  all  wrong!" 

"Cose,  you'  Minerva  understand  when  ye  comes  along 
side  er  yo'  true  love  dat  ye  feels  humble " 

"Nobum!  Nobum!"  he  broke  in  emphatically — "ye 
got  dat  all  wrong — all  wrong!"  He  paused,  drew  a 
chair  to  the  table  and  motioned  her  to  a  seat  opposite. 

"Des  lemme  tell  ye  now,"  he  continued  with  de 
termined  kindness.  "Ye  see  I  got  ter  'fess  de  whole 
truf  ter  you.  Tain't  right  ter  fool  ye." 

Minerva  seated  herself,  complacently  murmuring: 

"Yassah,  dat's  so,  Brer  Andy." 

He  leaned  over  the  table  and  looked  at  her  a  mo 
ment  solemnly: 

"I  gotter  'fess  ter  you  now,  Miss  Minerva,  dat  I'se 
always  bin  a  bad  nigger — what  dey  calls  er  pizen  bad 
nigger — I'se  er  wife  beater !" 

Minerva's  eyes  walled  in  amazement: 

"No?" 

"Yassam,"  he  went  on  seriously.  "When  I  wuz  mar 
ried  afore  I  got  de  habit  er  beatin'  my  wife!" 

"Beat  her?" 

Andy  shook  his  head  dolefully: 
359 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"Yassam.  Hit's  des  lak  I  tell  ye.  I  hates  ter  'fess 
hit  ter  you,  m'am,  but  I  formed  de  habit,  same  ez 
drinkin'  licker — I  beat  her!  I  des  couldn't  keep  my 
hands  offen  her.  I  beat  her  scandalous  !  I  pay  no  ten- 
shun  to  her  hollerin! — huh! — de  louder  she  holler, 
'pears  lak  de  harder  I  beat  her !" 

"My,  my,  ain't  dat  terrible!"  she  gasped. 

"Yassam " 

"Scandalous !" 

"Dat  it  is " 

"Sinful!" 

"Jes  so!"  he  agreed  sorrowfully. 

"But  man !"  she  cried  ecstatically,  "dat's  what  I  calls 
er  husband !" 

"Hey?" 

"Dat's  de  man  fer  me!" 

He  looked  at  her  in  dismay,  snatched  the  decanter, 
poured  himself  a  straight  drink  of  whiskey,  gulped  it 
down,  leaned  over  the  table  and  returned  to  his  task 
with  renewed  vigor: 

"But  I  kin  see,  m'am,  dat  yer  don't  know  what  I 
means !  I  didn't  des  switch  'er  wid  er  cowhide  er  de 
buggy  whip !  I  got  in  er  regular  habit  er  lammin'  her 
wid  anything  I  git  hold  of — wid  er  axe  handle  or  wid 
er  fire  shovel " 

"Well,  dat's  all  right,"  Minerva  interrupted  ad 
miringly.  "She  had  de  same  chance  ez  you !  I  takes 
my  chances.  What  I  wants  is  er  husban' — a  husban' 
dat's  got  de  sand  in  his  gizzard !  Dat  fust  husban'  er 
mine  weren't  no  good  'tall — nebber  hit  me  in  his  life 
but  once — slap  me  in  de  face  one  day,  lak  dat!" 

She  gave  a  contemptuous  imitation  of  the  trivial  blow 
with  the  palms  of  her  hands. 

360 


ANDY  FIGHTS 


"An'  what'd  you  do,  m'am?"  Andy  asked  with  sud 
den  suspicion. 

"Nuttin'  'tall!"  she  said  with  a  smile.  "I  des  laf,  haul 
off,  kinder  playful  lak,  an'  knock  'im  down  wid  de  flat- 
iron " 

Andy  leaped  to  his  feet  and  walked  around  the  table 
toward  the  door: 

"Wid  de  flatiron !"  he  repeated  incredulously. 

"Didn't  hit  'im  hard!"  Minerva  laughed.  "But  he 
tumble  on  de  flo'  lak  er  ten-pin  in  er  bowlin'  alley.  I 
stan'  dar  waitin'  fer  'im  ter  git  up  an'  come  ergin,  an' 
what  ye  reckon  he  done?" 

"I  dunno,  m'am,"  Andy  sighed,  wiping  the  perspira 
tion  from  his  forehead. 

Minerva  laughed  joyously  at  the  memory  of  the  scene : 

"He  jump  up  an'  run  des  lak  er  turkey!  He  run 
all  de  way  down  town,  an'  bless  God  ef  he  didn't  buy 
me  a  new  calico  dress  an'  fotch  hit  home  ter  me.  He 
warn't  no  man  at  all !  I  wuz  dat  sorry  fer  'im  an'  dat 
ershamed  er  him  I  couldn't  look  'im  in  de  face  ergin. 
I  gits  er  divorce  frum  him " 

She  paused,  rose,  and  looked  at  Andy  with  tender 
admiration : 

"But,  Lordy,  honey,  you  an'  me's  gwine  ter  have 
joyful  times!" 

Andy  made  a  break  for  the  door  but  she  was  too 
quick  for  him.  With  a  swift  swinging  movement,  as 
tonishing  in  its  rapidity  for  her  size,  she  threw  herself 
on  him  and  her  arms  encircled  his  neck : 

"I'se  yo'  woman  an'  you'se  my  man!"  she  cried  with 
a  finality  that  left  her  victim  without  a  ray  of  hope. 
He  was  muttering  incoherent  protests  when  Helen's 
laughing  voice  came  to  his  rescue : 

361 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

"Oho!"  she  cried,  with  finger  uplifted  in  a  teasing 
gesture. 

Minerva  loosed  her  grip  on  Andy  overwhelmed  with 
embarrassment,  while  he  crouched  behind  her  figure  cry 
ing: 

"  'Twa'n't  me,  Miss  Helen— 'twa'n't  me!" 

Helen  continued  to  laugh  while  Andy  grasped  the 
tray  and  beat  a  hasty  retreat. 

Helen  approached  Minerva  teasingly: 

"Why,  Aunt  Minerva!" 

The  big,  jovial  black  woman  glanced  at  her: 

"G'way,  chile — g'way  f rum  here  !" 

"Aunt  Minerva,  I  wouldn't  have  thought  such  a  thing 
of  you !"  Helen  said  demurely. 

Minerva  broke  into  a  jolly  laugh  and  faced  her  tor 
mentor  : 

"Yassum,  honey,  I  spec  hit  wuz  all  my  fault.  Love's 
such  foolishness — yer  knows  how  dat  is  yosef !" 

A  look  of  rapture  overspread  Helen's  face : 

"Such  a  sweet,  wonderful  foolishness,  Aunt  Minerva !" 
— she  paused  and  her  voice  was  trembling  when  she 
added — "It  makes  us  all  akin,  doesn't  it  ?" 

"Yassam,  an'  I  sho'  is  glad  ter  see  you  so  happy !" 

"Oh,  I'm  too  happy,  Aunt  Minerva,  it  frightens 
me" — she  stopped,  glanced  at  the  door,  drew  nearer 
and  continued  in  low  tones:  "I've  just  left  Tom  out 
there  on  the  lawn,  to  ask  you  to  do  something  for 
me." 

"Yassam." 

"I  want  you  to  tell  the  major  our  secret  to-night. 
He'll  be  proud  and  happy  in  his  victory  and  I  want 
him  to  know  at  once." 

The  black  woman  shook  her  head  dubiously: 

362 


ANDY  FIGHTS 


"Tell  him  yosef ,  honey !" 

"But  I'm  afraid.  The  major  frightens  me.  When 
I  look  into  his  deep  eyes  I  feel  that  he  has  the  power  to 
crush  the  soul  out  of  my  body  and  that  he  will  do  it 
if  I  make  him  very  angry." 

"Dat's  'cause  yer  deceives  him,  child." 

"Please  tell  him  for  us,  Aunt  Minerva!  Oh,  you've 
been  so  good  to  me!  For  the  past  weeks  I've  been  in 
heaven.  It  seems  only  a  day  instead  of  a  month  since 
he  told  me  his  love  and  then  it  seems  I've  lived  through 
all  eternity  since  I  first  felt  his  arms  about  me.  Sitting 
out  there  in  the  moonlight  by  his  side  I  forget  that  I'm 
on  earth,  forget  that  there's  a  pain  or  a  secret  in  it. 
I'm  just  in  heaven.  I  have  to  pinch  myself  to  see  if 
it's  real" — she  smiled  and  pinched  her  arm — "I'm  afraid 
I'll  wake  up  and  find  it  only  a  dream !" 

"Well,  yer  better  wake  up  just  er  minute  an'  tell 
de  major — Mister  Tom  got  ter  have  it  out  wid  him." 

"Yes,  I  know,  and  that's  what  scares  me.  Won't  you 
tell  him  for  us  right  away?  Get  him  in  a  good  humor, 
make  him  laugh,  say  a  good  word  for  us  and  then  tell 
him.  Tell  him  how  useless  it  will  be  to  oppose  us.  He 
can't  hold  out  long  against  Tom,  he  loves  him  so." 

"Mr.  Tom  want  me  ter  tell  de  major  ter-night?  He 
ax  yer  ter  see  me?" 

"No.  He  doesn't  know  what  I  came  for.  I  just 
decided  all  of  a  sudden  to  come.  I  want  to  surprise 
him.  He  is  going  to  tell  his  father  himself  to-night. 
But  somehow  I'm  afraid,  Aunt  Minerva.  I  want  you 
to  help  us.  You  will,  won't  you  ?" 

The  black  woman  shook  her  head  emphatically : 

<<JNasah,  I  ain't  gwine  ter  git  mixed  up  in  djs 
thing!" 

363 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"Aunt  Minerva!" 

"Nasah — I'se  skeered !" 

"Ah,  please?" 

"Nasah!" 

"Please " 

"Na,  na,  na !" 

"Aunt  Minerva " 

"Na " 

The  girl's  pleading  eyes  were  resistless  and  the  black 
lips  smiled: 

"Cose  I  will,  chile!  Cose  I  will — I'll  see  'im  right 
away.  I'll  tell  him  de  minute  I  lays  my  eyes  on  'im." 

She  turned  to  go  and  ran  squarely  into  Norton  as 
he  strode  into  the  room.  She  stopped  and  stam 
mered  : 

"Why — why — wuz  yer  lookin'  fer  me,  major?" 

Norton  gazed  at  her  a  moment  and  couldn't  call  his 
mind  from  its  painful  train  of  thought.  He  spoke 
finally  with  sharp  accent: 

"No.     I  want  to  see  Cleo." 

Helen  slipped  behind  Minerva: 

"Stay  and  tell  him  now.     I'll  go." 

"No,  better  wait,"  was  her  low  reply,  as  she  watched 
Norton   furtively.      "I   don't  like  de  way  his   eyes   er» 
spittin'  fire." 

Norton  turned  to  Minerva  sharply: 

"Find  Cleo  and  tell  her  I  wish  to  see  her  immedi 
ately!" 

"Yassah — yassah!"  Minerva  answered,  nervously, 
whispering  to  Helen:  "Come  on,  honey — git  outen 
here — come  on  !" 

Helen  followed  mechanically,  glancing  timidly  back 
over  her  shoulder  at  Norton's  drawn  face. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE    SECOND    BLOW 

NORTON  could  scarcely  control  his  eagerness  to  face 
the  woman  he  loathed.  Every  nerve  of  his  body  tingled 
with  the  agony  of  his  desire  to  be  free. 

He  was  ready  for  the  end,  no  matter  what  she  might 
do.  The  time  had  come  in  the  strong  man's  life  when 
compromise,  conciliation,  and  delay  were  alike  impossi 
ble.  He  cursed  himself  and  his  folly  to-night  that  he 
had  delayed  so  long.  He  had  tried  to  be  fair  to  the 
woman  he  hated.  His  sense  of  justice,  personal  honor, 
and  loyalty  to  his  pledged  word,  had  given  her  the 
opportunity  to  strike  him  the  blow  she  had  delivered 
through  the  girl.  He  had  been  more  than  fair  and 
he  would  settle  it  now  for  all  time. 

That  she  was  afraid  to  meet  him  was  only  too  evi 
dent  from  her  leaving  the  house  on  his  return.  He 
smiled  grimly  when  he  recalled  the  effrontery  with 
which  she  had  defied  him  at  their  last  meeting. 

Her  voice,  sharp  and  angry,  rang  out  to  Andy  at  the 
back  door. 

Norton's  strong  jaw  closed  with  a  snap,  and  he  felt 
his  whole  being  quiver  at  the  rasping  sound  of  her 
familiar  tones.  She  had  evidently  recovered  her  com 
posure  and  was  ready  with  her  usual  insolence. 

She  walked  quickly  into  the  room,  and  threw  her 
head  up  with  defiance : 

365 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"Well?" 

"Why  have  you  avoided  me  to-night?" 

"Have  I?"   * 

"I  think  so." 

Cleo  laughed  sneeringly: 

"You'll  think  again  before  I'm  done  with  you!" 

She  shook  her  head  with  the  old  bravado,  but  the 
keen  eyes  of  the  man  watching  saw  that  she  was  not 
sure  of  her  ground. 

He  folded  his  arms  and  quietly  began : 

"For  twenty  years  I  have  breathed  the  air  poisoned 
by  your  presence.  I  have  seen  your  insolence  grow 
until  you  have  announced  yourself  the  mistress  of  my 
house.  You  knew  that  I  was  afraid  of  your  tongue, 
and  thought  that  a  coward  would  submit  in  the  end. 
Well,  it's  over.  I've  held  my  hand  for  the  past  four 
weeks  until  my  duty  to  the  people  was  done.  I've  been 
a  coward  when  I  saw  the  tangled  web  of  lies  and  shame 
in  which  I  floundered.  But  the  past  is  past.  I  face  life 
to-night  as  it  is" — his  voice  dropped — "  and  I'm  going 
to  take  what  comes.  Your  rule  in  my  house  is  at  an 
end " 

"Indeed !" 

"Helen  leaves  here  to-morrow  morning  and  you  go." 

"Really?" 

"I've  made  a  decent  provision  for  your  future — 
which  is  more  than  you  deserve.  Pack  your  things !" 

The  woman  threw  him  a  look  of  hate  and  her  lips 
curved  with  scorn : 

"So — you  have  kindly  allowed  me  to  stay  until  your 
campaign  was  ended.  Well,  I've  understood  you.  I 
knew  that  you  were  getting  ready  for  me.  I'm  ready 
for  you." 

366 


THE  SECOND   BLOW 


"And  you  think  that  I  will  allow  you  to  remain  in 
my  house  after  what  has  passed  between  us?" 

"Yes,  you  will,"  she  answered  smiling.  "I'm  not  go 
ing  to  leave.  You'll  have  to  throw  me  into  the  street. 
And  if  you  do,  God  may  pity  you,  I'll  not.  There's  one 
thing  you  fear  more  than  a  public  scandal!" 

Norton  advanced  and  glared  at  her: 

"What?" 

"The  hatred  of  the  boy  you  idolize.  I  dare  you  to 
lay  your  hands  on  me  to  put  me  out  of  this  house ! 
And  if  you  do,  Tom  will  hear  from  my  lips  tho  story 
of  the  affair  that  ended  in  the  death  of  his  mother. 
I'll  tell  him  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  then  a  great 
deal  more  than  the  truth " 

"No  doubt !"  he  interrupted. 

"But  there'll  be  enough  truth  in  all  I  say  to  convince 
him  beyond  a  doubt.  I  promise  you  now" — she  dropped 
her  voice  to  a  whisper — "to  lie  to  him  with  a  skill  so 
sure,  so  cunning,  so  perfect,  no  denial  you  can  ever 
make  will  shake  his  faith  in  my  words.  He  loves  me  and 
I'll  make  him  believe  me.  When  I  finish  my  story  he 
ought  to  kill  you.  There's  one  thing  you  can  depend 
on  with  his  high-strung  and  sensitive  nature  and  the 
training  you  have  given  him  in  racial  purity — when 
he  hears  my  story,  he'll  curse  you  to  your  face  and  turn 
from  you  as  if  you  were  a  leper.  I'll  see  that  he  does 
this  if  it's  the  last  and  only  thing  I  do  on  this  earth!" 

"And  if  you  do " 

"Oh,  I'm  not  afraid!"  she  sneered,  holding  his  eye 
with  the  calm  assurance  of  power.  "I've  thought  it  all 
over  and  I  know  exactly  what  to  say." 

He  leaned  close : 

"Now  listen !  I  don't  want  to  hurt  you  but  you're 
367 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

going  out  of  my  life.  Every  day  while  I've  sheltered 
you  in  this  house  you  have  schemed  and  planned  to 
drag  me  down  again  to  your  level.  You  have  failed.  I 
am  not  going  to  risk  that  girl's  presence  here  another 
day — and  you  go !" 

As  he  spoke  the  last  words  he  turned  from  her  with 
a  gesture  of  final  dismissal.  She  tossed  her  head  in  a 
light  laugh  and  calmly  said: 

"You're  too  late!" 

He  stopped  in  his  tracks,  his  heart  chilled  by  the 
queer  note  of  triumph  in  her  voice.  Without  turning 
or  moving  a  muscle  he  asked: 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Tom  is  already  in  love  with  Helen!" 

He  wheeled  and  hurled  himself  at  her: 

"What?" 

"And  she  is  desperately  in  love  with  him" — she 
stopped  and  deliberately  laughed  again  in  his  face — 
"and  I  have  known  it  for  weeks !" 

Another  step  brought  his  trembling  figure  towering 
over  her: 

"I  don't  believe  you!"  he  hissed. 

Cleo  walked  leisurely  to  the  door  and  smiled : 

"Ask  the  servants  if  you  doubt  my  word."  She 
finished  with  a  sneer.  "I  begged  you  not  to  fight, 
major!" 

He  stood  rooted  to  the  spot  and  watched  her  slowly 
walk  backward  into  the  hall.  It  was  a  lie,  of  course. 
And  yet  the  calm  certainty  with  which  she  spoke  chilled 
his  soul  as  he  recalled  his  own  suspicions.  He  must 
know  now  without  a  moment's  delay  and  he  must  know 
the  whole  truth  without  reservation. 

Before  he  approached  either  Tom  or  Helen  there 
368 


THE  SECOND   BLOW 


was  one  on  whom  he  had  always  relied  to  tell  the  truth. 
Her  honest  black  face  had  been  the  one  comfort  of 
his  life  through  the  years  of  shadow  and  deceit.  If 
Minerva  knew  she  would  tell  him. 

He  rushed  to  the  door  that  led  to  the  kitchen  and 
called : 

"Minerva!" 

The  answer  came  feebly: 

"Yassah." 

"Come  here!" 

He  had  controlled  his  emotions  sufficiently  to  speak 
his  last  command  with  some  degree  of  dignity. 

He  walked  back  to  the  table  and  waited  for  her  com 
ing.  His  brain  was  in  a  whirl  of  conflicting,  stunning 
emotion.  He  simply  couldn't  face  at  once  the  appalling 
possibilities  such  a  statement  involved.  His  mind  re 
fused  to  accept  it.  As  yet  it  was  a  lie  of  Cleo's  fertile 
invention,  and  still  his  reason  told  him  that  such  a  lie 
could  serve  no  sane  purpose  in  such  a  crisis.  He  felt 
that  he  was  choking.  His  hand  involuntarily  went  to 
his  neck  and  fumbled  at  his  collar. 

Minerva's  heavy  footstep  was  heard  and  he  turned 
sharply : 

"Minerva !" 

"Yassah" — she  answered,  glancing  at  him  timidly. 
Never  had  she  seen  his  face  so  ghastly  or  the  look  in 
his  eye  so  desperate.  She  saw  that  he  was  making  an 
effort  at  self-control  and  knew  instinctively  that  the 
happiness  of  the  lovers  was  at  stake.  It  was  too  solemn 
a  moment  for  anything  save  the  naked  truth  and  her 
heart  sank  in  pity  and  sympathy  for  the  girl  she  had 
promised  to  help. 

"Minerva,"  he  began  evenly,  "you  are  the  only  serv- 
369 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

ant  in  this  house  who  has  never  lied  to  me" — he  took  a 
step  closer.     "Are  Tom  and  Miss  Helen  lovers?" 

Minerva  fumbled  her  apron,  glanced  at  his  drawn 
face,  looked  down  on  the  floor  and  stammered: 

"De  Lordy,  major " 

"Yes  or  no !"  he  thundered. 

The  black  woman  moistened  her  lips,  hesitated,  turned 
her  honest  face  on  his  and  said  tremblingly : 

"Yassah,  dey  is!" 

His  eyes  burned  into  hers : 

"And  you,  too,  have  known  this  for  weeks?" 

"Yassah.     Mister  Tom  ax  me  not  ter  tell  ye " 

Norton  staggered  to  a  seat  and  sank  with  a  groan 
of  despair,  repeating  over  and  over  again  in  low  gasps 
the  exclamation  that  was  a  sob  and  a  prayer : 

"Great  God!— Great  God!" 

Minerva  drew  near  with  tender  sympathy.  Her 
voice  was  full  of  simple,  earnest  pleading: 

"De  Lordy,  major,  what's  de  use?  Young  folks  is 
young  folks,  an'  love's  love.  What  ye  want  ter  break 
'em  up  fer — dey's  so  happy !  Yer  know,  sah,  ye  can't 
mend  er  butterfly's  wing  er  put  er  egg  back  in  de  shell. 
Miss  Helen's  young,  beautiful,  sweet  and  good — won't 
ye  let  me  plead  fer  'em,  sah?" 

With  a  groan  of  anguish  Norton  sprang  to  his  feet: 

"Silence — silence !" 

"Yassah !" 

"Go — find  Miss  Helen — send  her  to  me  quickly.  I 
don't  want  to  see  Mr.  Tom.  I  want  to  see  her  alone 
first." 

Minerva  had  backed  out  of  his  way  and  answered 
plaintively : 

"Yassah." 

370 


THE   SECOND   BLOW 


She  paused  and  extended  her  hand  pleadingly : 

"You'll  be  easy  wid  'em,  sah?" 

He  hadn't  heard.  The  tall  figure  slowly  sank  into 
the  chair  and  his  shoulders  drooped  in  mortal  weariness. 

Minerva  shook  her  head  sadly  and  turned  to  do  his 
bidding. 

Norton's  eyes  were  set  in  agony,  his  face  white,  his 
breast  scarcely  moving  to  breathe,  as  he  waited  Helen's 
coming.  The  nerves  suddenly  snapped — he  bowed  his 
face  in  his  hands  and  sobbed  aloud : 

"Oh,  dear  God,  give  me  strength!  I  can't — I  can't 
confess  to  my  boy!" 


371 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE  TEST  OF  LOVE 

NORTON  made  a  desperate  effort  to  pull  himself  to 
gether  for  his  appeal  to  Helen.  On  its  outcome  hung 
the  possibility  of  saving  himself  from  the  terror  that 
haunted  him.  If  he  could  tell  the  girl  the  truth  and 
make  her  see  that  a  marriage  with  Tom  was  utterly 
out  of  the  question  because  her  blood  was  stained  with 
that  of  a  negro,  it  might  be  possible  to  save  himself  the 
humiliation  of  the  full  confession  of  their  relationship 
and  of  his  bitter  shame. 

He  had  made  a  fearful  mistake  in  not  telling  her  this 
at  their  first  interview,  and  a  still  more  frightful  mistake 
in  rearing  her  in  ignorance  of  the  truth.  No  life  built 
on  a  lie  could  endure.  He  was  still  trying  desperately 
to  hold  his  own  on  its  shifting  sands,  but  in  his  soul 
of  souls  he  had  begun  to  despair  of  the  end.  He  was 
clutching  at  straws.  In  moments  of  sanity  he  realized 
it,  but  there  was  nothing  else  to  do.  The  act  was  in 
stinctive. 

The  girl's  sensitive  mind  was  the  key  to  a  possible 
solution.  He  had  felt  instinctively  on  the  day  he  told 
her  the  first  fact  about  the  disgrace  of  her  birth,  vague 
and  shadowy  as  he  had  left  it,  that  she  could  never 
adjust  herself  to  the  certainty  that  negro  blood  flowed 
in  her  veins.  He  had  observed  that  her  aversion  to 
negroes  was  peculiarly  acute.  If  her  love  for  the  boy 

372 


THE   TEST  OF   LOVE 


were  genuine,  if  it  belonged  to  the  big  things  of  the 
soul,  and  were  not  the  mere  animal  impulse  she  had 
inherited  from  her  mother,  he  would  have  a  ground 
of  most  powerful  appeal.  Love  seeks  not  its  own. 
If  she  really  loved  she  would  sink  her  own  life  to  save 
his. 

It  was  a  big  divine  thing  to  demand  of  her  and  his 
heart  sank  at  the  thought  of  her  possible  inheritance 
from  Cleo.  Yet  he  knew  by  an  instinct  deeper  and 
truer  than  reason,  that  the  ruling  power  in  this  sensitive, 
lonely  creature  was  in  the  spirit,  not  the  flesh.  He  re 
called  in  vivid  flashes  the  moments  he  had  felt  this  so 
keenly  in  their  first  pitiful  meeting.  If  he  could  win 
her  consent  to  an  immediate  flight  and  the  sacrifice  of 
her  own  desires  to  save  the  boy !  It  was  only  a  hope — 
it  was  a  desperate  one — but  he  clung  to  it  with  painful 
eagerness. 

Why  didn't  she  come?  The  minutes  seemed  hours 
and  there  were  minutes  in  which  he  lived  a  life. 

He  rose  nervously  and  walked  toward  the  mantel, 
lifted  his  eyes  and  they  rested  on  the  portrait  of  his 
wife. 

"  'My  brooding  spirit  will  watch  and  guard !' ' 

He  repeated  the  promise  of  her  last  scrawled  mes 
sage.  He  leaned  heavily  against  the  mantel,  his  eyes 
burning  with  an  unusual  brightness. 

"Oh,  Jean,  darling,"  he  groaned,  "if  you  see  and 
hear  and  know,  let  me  feel  your  presence !  Your  dear 
eyes  are  softer  and  kinder  than  the  world's  to-night. 
Help  me,  I'm  alone,  heartsick  and  broken!" 

He  choked  down  a  sob,  walked  back  to  the  chair  and 
sank  in  silence.  His  eyes  were  staring  into  space,  his 
imagination  on  fire,  passing  in  stern  review  the  events 

373 


THE  SINS   OF  THE   FATHER 

of  his  life.  How  futile,  childish  and  absurd  it  all 
seemed!  What  a  vain  and  foolish  thing  its  hope  and 
struggles,  its  dreams  and  ambitions !  What  a  failure 
for  all  its  surface  brilliance !  He  was  standing  again 
at  the  window  behind  the  dais  of  the  President  of  the 
Senate,  watching  the  little  drooping  figure  of  the  Gov 
ernor  staggering  away  into  oblivion,  and  his  heart  went 
out  to  him  in  a  great  tenderness  and  pity.  He  longed 
to  roll  back  the  years  that  he  might  follow  the  impulse 
he  had  felt  to  hurry  down  the  steps  of  the  Capitol,  draw 
the  broken  man  into  a  sheltered  spot,  slip  his  arms 
about  him  and  say: 

"Who  am  I  to  judge?  You're  my  brother — I'm 
sorry !  Come,  we'll  try  it  again  and  help  one  another  1" 

The  dream  ended  in  a  sudden  start.  He  had  heard 
the  rustle  of  a  dress  at  the  door  and  knew  without  lift 
ing  his  head  that  she  was  in  the  room. 

Only  the  slightest  sound  had  come  from  her  dry 
throat,  a  little  muffled  attempt  to  clear  it  of  the  tight 
ening  bands.  It  was  scarcely  audible,  yet  his  keen  ear 
had  caught  it  instantly,  not  only  caught  the  excitement 
under  which  she  was  struggling,  but  in  it  the  painful 
consciousness  of  his  hostility  and  her  pathetic  desire 
to  be  friends. 

He  rose  trembling  and  turned  his  dark  eyes  on  her 
white  uplifted  face. 

A  feeling  of  terror  suddenly  weakened  her  knees. 
He  was  evidently  not  angry  as  she  had  feared.  There 
was  something  bigger  and  more  terrible  than  anger 
behind  the  mask  he  was  struggling  to  draw  over  his 
mobile  features. 

"What  has  happened,  major?"  she  asked  in  a  subdued 
voice. 

374 


"Only  the  slightest  sound  came  from  her  dry  throat.' 


THE   TEST   OF   LOVE 


"That  is  what  I  must  know  of  you,  child,"  he  replied, 
Batching  her  intently. 

She  pressed  closer  with  sudden  desperate  courage, 
her  voice  full  of  wistful  friendliness : 

"Oh,  major,  what  have  I  done  to  offend  you?  I've 
tried  so  hard  to  win  your  love  and  respect.  All  my 
life  I've  been  alone  in  a  world  of  strangers,  friendless 
and  homesick " 

He  lifted  his  hand  with  a  firm  gesture: 

"Come,  child,  to  the  point!  I  must  know  the  truth 
now.  Tom  has  made  love  to  you?" 

She  blushed: 

"I — I — wish  to  see  Tom  before  I  answer " 

Norton  dropped  his  uplifted  arm  with  a  groan: 

"Thank  you,"  he  murmured  in  tones  scarcely  audi 
ble.  "I  have  your  answer !" — he  paused  and  looked  at 
her  curiously — "And  you  love  him?" 

The  girl  hesitated  for  just  an  instant,  her  blue  eyes 
flashed  and  she  drew  her  strong,  young  figure  erect: 

"Yes !  And  I'm  proud  of  it.  His  love  has  lifted 
me  into  the  sunlight  and  made  the  world  glorious — 
made  me  love  everything  in  it — every  tree  and  every 
flower  and  every  living  thing  that  moves  and  feels " 

She  stopped  abruptly  and  lifted  her  flushed  face  to 
his : 

"I've  learned  to  love  you,  in  spite  of  your  harshness 
to  me — I  love  you  because  you  are  his  father!" 

He  turned  from  her  and  then  wheeled  suddenly,  his 
face  drawn  with  pain : 

"Now,  I  must  be  frank,  I  must  be  brutal.  I  must 
know  the  truth  without  reservation — how  far  has  this 
thing  gone?" 

"I — I — don't  understand  you !" 
375 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

"Marriage  is  impossible!  I  told  you  that  and  you 
must  have  realized  it." 

Her  head  drooped: 

"You  said  so " 

"Impossible — utterly  impossible !  And  you  know 
it" — he  drew  a  deep  breath.  "What — what  are  your  real 
relations  ?" 

"My —  real — relations  ?"  she  gasped. 

"Answer  me  now,  before  God!  I'll  hold  your  secret 
sacred — your  life  and  his  may  depend  on  it" — his  voice 
dropped  to  a  tense  whisper.  "Your  love  is  pure  and 
unsullied?" 

The  girl's  eyes  flashed  with  rage: 
'i       "As   pure   and   unsullied  as  his   dead  mother's   for 

you!" 

"Thank  God!"  he  breathed.  "I  believe  you— but 
I  had  to  know,  child!  I  had  to  know — there  are  big, 
terrible  reasons  why  I  had  to  know." 

A  tear  slowly  stole  down  Helen's  flushed  cheeks  as 
she  quietly  asked: 

"Why — why  should  you  insult  and  shame  me  by 
asking  that  question?" 

"My  knowledge  of  your  birth." 

The  girl  smiled  sadly: 

"Yet  you  might  have  guessed  that  I  had  learned  to 
cherish  honor  and  purity  before  I  knew  I  might  not 
claim  them  as  my  birthright!" 

"Forgive  me,  child,"  he  said  contritely,  "if  in  my 
eagerness,  my  fear,  my  anguish,  I  hurt  you.  But  I 
had  to  ask  that  question!  I  had  to  know.  Your  an 
swer  gives  me  courage" — he  paused  and  his  voice  quiv 
ered  with  deep  intensity — "you  really  love  Tom?" 

"With  a  love  beyond  words !" 
376 


THE   TEST   OF   LOVE 


"The  big,  wonderful  love  that  comes  to  the  human 
soul  but  once?" 

"Yes !" 

His  eyes  were  piercing  to  the  depths  now: 

"With  the  deep,  unselfish  yearning  that  asks  noth 
ing  for  itself  and  seeks  only  the  highest  good  of  its 
beloved?" 

"Yes — yes,"  she  answered  mechanically  and,  pausing, 
looked  again  into  his  burning  eyes ;  "but  you  frighten 
me — "  she  grasped  a  chair  for  support,  recovered  her 
self  and  went  on  rapidly — "you  mustn't  ask  me  to  give 
him  up — I  won't  give  him  up !  Poor  and  friendless,  with 
a  shadow  over  my  life  and  everything  against  me,  I 
have  won  him  and  he's  mine !  I  have  the  right  to  his 
love — I  didn't  ask  to  be  born.  I  must  live  my  own  life. 
I  have  as  much  right  to  happiness  as  you.  Why  must  I 
bear  the  sins  of  my  father  and  mother?  Have  I  broken 
the  law?  Haven't  I  a  heart  that  can  ache  and  break 
and  cry  for  joy?" 

He  allowed  the  first  paroxysm  of  her  emotion  to 
spend  itself  before  he  replied,  and  then  in  quiet  tones 
said: 

"You  must  give  him  up  !" 

"I  won't !  I  won't,  I  tell  you !"  she  said  through  her 
set  teeth  as  she  suddenly  swung  her  strong,  young  form 
before  him.  "I  won't  give  him  up !  His  love  has  made 
life  worth  living  and  I'm  going  to  live  it !  I  don't  care 
what  you  say — he's  mine — and  you  shall  not  take  him 
from  me!" 

Norton  was  stunned  by  the  fiery  intensity  with  which 
her  answer  had  been  given.  There  was  no  mistaking 
the  strength  of  her  character.  Every  vibrant  note  of 
her  voice  had  rung  with  sincerity,  purity,  the  justice 

377 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

of  her  cause,  and  the  consciousness  of  power.  He  was 
dealing  with  no  trembling  schoolgirl's  mind,  filled  with 
sentimental  dreams.  A  woman,  in  the  tragic  strength 
of  a  great  nature,  stood  before  him.  He  felt  this  great 
ness  instinctively  and  met  it  with  reverence.  It  could 
only  be  met  thus,  and  as  he  realized  its  strength,  his 
heart  took  fresh  courage.  His  own  voice  became  ten 
der,  eager,  persuasive: 

"But  suppose,  my  dear,  I  show  you  that  you  will 
destroy  the  happiness  and  wreck  the  life  of  the  man 
you  love?" 

"Impossible!  He  knows  that  I'm  nameless  and  his 
love  is  all  the  deeper,  truer  and  more  manly  because 
he  realizes  that  I  am  defenseless." 

"But  suppose  I  convince  you?" 

"You  can't!" 

"Suppose,"  he  said  in  a  queer  tone,  "I  tell  you  that 
the  barrier  between  you  is  so  real,  so  loathsome " 

"Loathsome?"  she  repeated  with  a  start. 

"So  loathsome,"  he  went  on  evenly,  "that  when  he 
knows  the  truth,  whether  he  wishes  it  or  not,  he  will 
instinctively  turn  from  you  with  a  shudder." 

"I  won't  believe  it !" 

"Suppose  I  prove  to  you  that  marriage  would  wreck 
both  your  life  and  his" — he  gazed  at  her  with  trembling 
intensity — "would  you  give  him  up  to  save  him?" 

She  held  his  eye  steadily : 

"Yes— I'd  die  to  save  him !" 

A  pitiful  stillness  followed.  The  man  scarcely  moved. 
His  lips  quivered  and  his  eyes  grew  dim.  He  looked  at 
her  pathetically  and  motioned  her  to  a  seat. 

"And  if  I  convince  you,"  he  went  on  tenderly,  "you 
will  submit  yourself  to  my  advice  and  leave  America?" 

378 


THE   TEST   OF   LOVE 


The  blue  eyes  never  flinched  as  she  firmly  replied : 

"Yes.  But  I  warn  you  that  no  such  barrier  can 
exist." 

"Then  I  must  prove  to  you  that  it  does."  He  drew 
a  deep  breath  and  watched  her.  "You  realize  the  fact 
that  a  man  who  marries  a  nameless  girl  bars  himself 
from  all  careers  of  honor?" 

"The  honor  of  fools,  yes — of  the  noble  and  wise, 
no!" 

"You  refuse  to  see  that  the  shame  which  shadows  a 
mother's  life  will  smirch  her  children,  and  like  a  deadly 
gangrene  at  last  eat  the  heart  out  of  her  husband's 
love?" 

"My  faith  in  him  is  too  big " 

"You  can  conceive  of  no  such  barrier?" 

"No!" 

"In  the  first  rush  of  love,"  he  replied  kindly,  "you 
feel  this.  Emotion  obscures  reason.  But  there  are  such 
barriers  between  men  and  women." 

"Name  one!" 

His  brow  clouded,  his  lips  moved  to  speak  and 
stopped.  It  was  more  difficult  to  frame  in  speech  than 
he  had  thought.  His  jaw  closed  with  firm  decision  at 
last  and  he  began  calmly: 

"I  take  an  extreme  case.  Suppose,  for  example,  your 
father,  a  proud  Southern  white  man,  of  culture,  refine 
ment  and  high  breeding,  forgot  for  a  moment  that  he 
was  white  and  heard  the  call  of  the  Beast,  and  your 
mother  were  an  octoroon — what  then?" 

The  girl  flushed  with  anger: 

"Such  a  barrier,  yes !  Nothing  could  be  more  loath 
some.  But  why  ask  me  so  disgusting  a  question?  No 
such  barrier  could  possibly  exist  between  us !" 

379 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

Norton's  eyes  were  again  burning  into  her  soul  as 
he  asked  in  a  low  voice: 

"Suppose  it  does?" 

The  girl  smiled  with  a  puzzled  look : 

"Suppose  it  does?  Of  course,  you're  only  trying 
|to  prove  that  such  an  impossible  barrier  might  exist! 
And  for  the  sake  of  argument  I  agree  that  it  would  be 
real" — she  paused  and  her  breath  came  in  a  quick 
gasp.  She  sprang  to  her  feet  clutching  at  her  throat, 
trembling  from  head  to  foot — "What  do  you  mean  by 
looking  at  me  like  that?" 

Norton  lowered  his  head  and  barely  breathed  the 
words  : 

"That  is  the  barrier  between  you !" 

Helen  looked  at  him  dazed.  The  meaning  was  too 
big  and  stupefying  to  be  grasped  at  once. 

"Why,  of  course,  major,"  she  faltered,  "you  just 
say  that  to  crush  me  in  the  argument.  But  I've  given 
up  the  point.  I've  granted  that  such  a  barrier  may 
exist  and  would  be  real.  But  you  haven't  told  me  the 
one  between  us." 

The  man  steeled  his  heart,  turned  his  face  away  and 
spoke  in  gentle  tones : 

"I  am  telling  you  the  ipitiful,  tragic  truth — your 
mother  is  a  negress " 

With  a  smothered  cry  of  horror  the  girl  threw  her 
self  on  him  and  covered  his  mouth  with  her  hand,  half 
gasping,  half  screaming  her  desperate  appeal: 

"Stop!  don't — don't  say  it! — take  it  back!  Tell  me 
that  it's  not  true — tell  me  that  you  only  said  it  to  con 
vince  me  and  I'll  believe  you.  If  the  hideous  thing  is 
true — for  the  love  of  God  deny  it  now!  If  it's  true — 
lie  to  me" — her  voice  broke  and  she  clung  to  Norton's 

380 


THE   TEST   OF   LOVE 


arms  with  cruel  grip — "lie  to  me!  Tell  me  that  you 
didn't  mean  it,  and  I'll  believe  you — truth  or  lie,  I'll 
never  question  it !  I'll  never  cross  your  purpose  again 
— I'll  do  anything  you  tell  me,  major" — she  lifted  her 
streaming  eyes  and  began  slowly  to  sink  to  her  knees — 
"see  how  humble — how  obedient  I  am !  You  don't  hate 
me,  do  you?  I'm  just  a  poor,  lonely  girl,  helpless  and 
friendless  now  at  your  feet" — her  head  sank  into  her 
hands  until  the  beautiful  brown  hair  touched  the  floor — 
"have  mercy!  have  mercy  on  me!" 

Norton  bent  low  and  fumbled  for  the  trembling  hand. 
He  couldn't  see  and  for  a  moment  words  were  impos 
sible. 

He  found  her  hand  and  pressed  it  gently : 

"I'm  sorry,  little  girl!  I'd  lie  to  you  if  I  could — 
but  you  know  a  lie  don't  last  long  in  this  world.  I've 
lied  about  you  before — I'd  lie  now  to  save  you  this 
anguish,  but  it's  no  use — we  all  have  to  face  things  in 
the  end !" 

With  a  mad  cry  of  pain,  the  girl  sprang  to  her  feet 
and  staggered  to  the  table: 

"Oh,  God,  how  could  any  man  with  a  soul — any  liv 
ing  creature,  even  a  beast  of  the  field — bring  me  into 
the  world — teach  me  to  think  and  feel,  to  laugh  and 
cry,  and  thrust  me  into  such  a  hell  alone!  My  proud 
f  aiher— I  could  kill  him !" 

Norton  extended  his  hands  to  her  in  a  gesture  of  in 
stinctive  sympathy: 

"Come,  you'll  see  things  in  a  calm  light  to-morrow, 
you  are  young  and  life  is  all  before  you !" 

"Yes !"  she  cried  fiercely,  "a  life  of  shame — a  life  of 
insult,  of  taunts,  of  humiliation,  of  horror !  The  one 

thing  I've  always  loathed  was  the  touch  of  a  negro " 

381 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

She  stopped  suddenly  and  lifted  her  hand,  staring 
with  wildly  dilated  eyes  at  the  nails  of  her  finely 
shaped  fingers  to  find  if  the  telltale  marks  of  negro 
blood  were  there  which  she  had  seen  on  Cleo's. 
Finding  none,  the  horror  in  her  eyes  slowly  sof 
tened  into  a  look  of  despairing  tenderness  as  she  went 
on: 

"The  one  passionate  yearning  of  my  soul  has  been 
to  be  a  mother — to  feel  the  breath  of  a  babe  on  my 
heart,  to  hear  it  lisp  my  name  and  know  a  mother's 
love — the  love  I've  starved  for — and  now,  it  can  never 
be!" 

She  had  moved  beyond  the  table  in  her  last  desperate 
cry  and  Norton  followed  with  a  look  of  tenderness: 

"Nonsense,"  he  cried  persuasively,  "you're  but  a 
child  yourself.  You  can  go  abroad  where  no  such  prob 
lem  of  white  and  black  race  exists.  You  can  marry 
there  and  be  happy  in  your  home  and  little  ones,  if  God 
shall  give  them!" 

She  turned  on  him  savagely: 

"Well,  God  shall  not  give  them!  I'll  see  to  that! 
I'm  young,  but  I'm  not  a  fool.  I  know  something  of 
the  laws  of  life.  I  know  that  Tom  is  not  like  you" — 
she  turned  and  pointed  to  the  portrait  on  the  wall — 
"he  is  like  his  great-grandfather!  Mine  may  have 
been " 

Her  voice  choked  with  passion.  She  grasped  a  chair 
with  one  hand  and  tore  at  the  collar  of  her  dress  with 
the  other.  She  had  started  to  say  "mine  may  have 
been  a  black  cannibal!"  and  the  sheer  horror  of  its 
possibility  had  strangled  her.  When  she  had  sufficiently 
mastered  her  feelings  to  speak  she  said  in  a  strange 
muffled  tone: 


THE    TEST   OF   LOVE 


"I  ask  nothing  of  God  now — if  I  could  see  Him,  I'd 
curse  Him  to  His  face !" 

"Come,  come !"  Norton  exclaimed,  "this  is  but  a  pass 
ing  ugly  fancy — such  things  rarely  happen " 

"But  they  do  happen!"  she  retorted  slowly.  "I've 
known  one  such  tragedy,  of  a  white  mother's  child  com 
ing  into  the  world  with  the  thick  lips,  kinky  hair,  flat 
nose  and  black  skin  of  a  cannibal  ancestor !  She  killed 
herself  when  she  was  strong  enough  to  leap  out  the 
window" — her  voice  dropped  to  a  dreamy  chant — "yes, 
blood  will  tell — there's  but  one  thing  for  me  to  do! 
I  wonder,  with  the  yellow  in  me,  if  I'll  have  the  cour 
age." 

Norton  spoke  with  persuasive  tenderness : 

"You  mustn't  think  of  such  madness !  I'll  send 
you  abroad  at  once  and  you  can  begin  life  over 
again " 

Helen  suddenly  snatched  the  chair  to  which  she  had 
been  holding  out  of  her  way  and  faced  Norton  with 
flaming  eyes : 

"I  don't  want  to  be  an  exile !  I've  been  alone  all  my 
miserable  orphan  life !  I  don't  want  to  go  abroad  and 
die  among  strangers !  I've  just  begun  to  live  since  I 
came  here!  I  love  the  South — it's  mine — I  feel  it — I 
know  it!  I  love  its  blue  skies  and  its  fields — I  love  its 
people — they  are  mine!  I  think  as  you  think,  feel  as 
you  feel " 

She  paused  and  looked  at  him  queerly: 

"I've  learned  to  honor,  respect  and  love  you  because 
I've  grown  to  feel  that  you  stand  for  what  I  hold  high 
est,  noblest  and  best  in  life" — the  voice  died  in  a  sob  and 
she  was  silent. 

The  man  turned  away,  crying  in  his  soul: 
383 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"O  God,  I'm  paying  the  price  now!" 

"What  can  I  do!"  she  went  on  at  last.  "What  is 
life  worth  since  I  know  this  leper's  shame?  There  are 
millions  like  me,  yes.  If  I  could  bend  my  back  and  be 
a  slave  there  are  men  and  women  who  need  my  services. 
And  there  are  men  I  might  know — yes — but  I  can't — I 
can't!  I'm  not  a  slave.  I'm  not  bad.  I  can't  stoop. 
There's  but  one  thing!" 

Norton's  face  was  white  with  emotion : 

"I  can't  tell  you,  little  girl,  how  sorry  I  am" — his 
voice  broke.  He  turned,  suddenly  extended  his  hand 
and  cried  hoarsely:  "Tell  me  what  I  can  do  to  help 
you — I'll  do  anything  on  this  earth  that's  within  rea 
son!" 

The  girl  looked  up  surprised  at  his  anguish,  wonder 
ing  vaguely  if  he  could  mean  what  he  had  said,  and  then 
threw  herself  at  him  in  a  burst  of  sudden,  fierce  rebel 
lion,  her  voice,  low  and  quivering  at  first,  rising  to  the 
tragic  power  of  a  defiant  soul  in  combat  with  over 
whelming  odds: 

"Then  give  me  back  the  man  I  love — he's  mine !  He's 
mine,  I  tell  you,  body  and  soul !  God — gave — him — to 
— me !  He's  your  son,  but  I  love  him !  He's  my  mate ! 
He's  of  age — he's  no  longer  yours !  His  time  has  come 
to  build  his  own  home — he's  mine — not  yours !  He's 
my  life — and  you're  tearing  the  very  heart  out  of  my 
body !" 

The  white,  trembling  figure  slowly  crumpled  at  his 
feet. 

He  took  both  of  her  hands,  and  lifted  her  gently : 

"Pull  yourself  together,  child.  It's  hard,  I  know,  but 
you  begin  to  realize  that  you  must  bear  it.  You  must 
look  things  calmly  in  the  face  now." 

384 


THE    TEST   OF   LOVE 


The  girl's  mouth  hardened  and  she  answered  with 
bitterness : 

"Yes,  of  course — I'm  nobody !  We  must  consider 
you" — she  staggered  to  a  chair  and  dropped  limply  into 
it,  her  voice  a  whisper — "we  must  consider  Tom — yes — 
yes — we  must,  too — I  know  that " 

Norton  pressed  eagerly  to  her  side  and  leaned  over 
the  drooping  figure: 

"You  can  begin  to  see  now  that  I  was  right,"  he 
pleaded.  "You  love  Tom — he's  worth  saving — you'll  do 
as  I  ask  and  give  him  up?" 

The  sensitive  young  face  was  convulsed  with  an  agony 
words  could  not  express  and  the  silence  was  pitiful.  The 
man  bending  over  her  could  hear  the  throb  of  his  own 
heart.  A  quartet  of  serenaders  celebrating  the  victory 
of  the  election  stopped  at  the  gate  and  the  soft  strains 
of  the  music  came  through  the  open  window.  Norton 
felt  that  he  must  scream  in  a  moment  if  she  did  not 
answer.  He  bent  low  and  softly  repeated : 

"You'll  do  as  I  ask  now,  and  give  him  up  ?" 

The  tangled  mass  of  brown  hair  sank  lower  and  her 
answer  was  a  sigh  of  despair: 

"Yes !" 

The  man  couldn't  speak  at  once.  His  eyes  filled. 
When  he  had  mastered  his  voice  he  said  eagerly : 

"There's  but  one  way,  you  know.  You  must  leave 
at  once  without  seeing  him." 

She  lifted  her  face  with  a  pleading  look: 

"Just  a  moment — without  letting  him  know  what  has 
passed  between  us — just  one  last  look  into  his  dear 
face?" 

He  shook  his  head  kindly: 

"It  isn't  wise " 

385 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"Yes,  I  know,"  she  sighed.    "I'll  go  at  once." 

He  drew  his  watch  and  looked  at  it  hurriedly: 

"The  first  train  leaves  in  thirty  minutes.  Get  your 
hat,  a  coat  and  travelling  bag  and  go  just  as  you  are. 
I'll  send  your  things " 

"Yes — yes" — she  murmured. 

"I'll  join  you  in  a  few  days  in  New  York  and  arrange 
your  future.  Leave  the  house  immediately.  Tom 
mustn't  see  you.  Avoid  him  as  you  cross  the  lawn. 
I'll  have  a  carriage  at  the  gate  in  a  few  minutes." 

The  little  head  sank  again : 

"I  understand." 

He  looked  uncertainly  at  the  white  drooping  figure. 
The  serenaders  were  repeating  the  chorus  of  the  old 
song  in  low,  sweet  strains  that  floated  over  the  lawn 
and  stole  through  the  house  in  weird  ghost-like  echoes. 
He  returned  to  her  chair  and  bent  over  her; 

"You  won't  stop  to  change  your  dress,  you'll  get 
your  hat  and  coat  and  go  just  as  you  are — at 
once?" 

The  brown  head  nodded  slowly  and  he  gazed  at  her 
tenderly : 

"You've  been  a  brave  little  girl  to-night" — he  lifted 
his  hand  to  place  it  on  her  shoulder  in  the  first  expres 
sion  of  love  he  had  ever  given.  The  hand  paused,  held 
by  the  struggle  of  the  feelings  of  centuries  of  racial 
pride  and  the  memories  of  his  own  bitter  tragedy.  But 
the  pathos  of  her  suffering  and  the  heroism  of  her  beau 
tiful  spirit  won.  The  hand  was  gently  lowered  and 
pressed  the  soft,  round  shoulder. 

A  sob  broke  from  the  lonely  heart,  and  her  head 
drooped  until  it  lay  prostrate  on  the  table,  the  beauti 
ful  arms  outstretched  in  helpless  surrender. 

386 


THE   TEST   OF   LOVE 


Norton  staggered  blindly  to  the  door,  looked  back, 
lifted  his  hand  and  in  a  quivering  voice,  said: 

"I  can  never  forget  this !" 

His  long  stride  quickly  measured  the  distance  to 
the  gate,  and  a  loud  cheer  from  the  serenaders  roused 
the  girl  from  her  stupor  of  pain. 

In  a  moment  they  began  singing  again,  a  love  song, 
that  tore  her  heart  with  cruel  power. 

"Oh,  God,  will  they  never  stop?"  she  cried,  closing 
her  ears  with  her  hands  in  sheer  desperation. 

She  rose,  crossed  slowly  to  the  window  and  looked  out 
on  the  beautiful  moonlit  lawn  at  the  old  rustic  seat 
where  her  lover  was  waiting.  She  pressed  her  hand  on 
her  throbbing  forehead,  walked  to  the  center  of  the 
room,  looked  about  her  in  a  helpless  way  and  her  eye 
rested  on  the  miniature  portrait  of  Tom.  She  picked 
it  up  and  gazed  at  it  tenderly,  pressed  it  to  her  heart, 
and  with  a  low  sob  felt  her  way  through  the  door  and 
up  the  stairs  to  her  room. 


Sff! 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE    PARTING 

TOM  had  grown  impatient,  waiting  in  their  shel 
tered  seat  on  the  lawn  for  Helen  to  return.  She  had 
gone  on  a  mysterious  mission  to  see  Minerva,  laugh 
ingly  refused  to  tell  him  its  purpose,  but  prom 
ised  to  return  in  a  few  minutes.  When  half  an 
hour  had  passed  without  a  sign  he  reconnoitered  to 
find  Minerva,  and  to  his  surprise  she,  too,  had  dis 
appeared. 

He  returned  to  his  trysting  place  and  listened  while 
the  serenaders  sang  their  first  song.  Unable  to 
endure  the  delay  longer  he  started  to  the  house  just 
as  his  father  hastily  left  by  the  front  door,  and 
quickly  passing  the  men  at  the  gate,  hurried  down 
town. 

The  coast  was  clear  and  he  moved  cautiously  to 
fathom,  if  possible,  the  mystery  of  Helen's  disappear 
ance.  Finding  no  trace  of  her  in  Minerva's  room,  he 
entered  the  house  and,  seeing  nothing  of  her  in  the 
halls,  thrust  his  head  in  the  library  and  found  it  empty. 
He  walked  in,  peeping  around  with  a  boyish  smile  ex 
pecting  her  to  leap  out  and  surprise  him.  He  opened 
the  French  window  and  looked  for  her  on  the  porch. 
He  hurried  back  into  the  room  with  a  look  of  surprised 
disappointment  and  started  to  the  door  opening  on  the 
hall  of  the  stairway.  He  heard  distinctly  the  rustle  of 

388 


THE   PARTING 


a  dress  and  the  echo  on  the  stairs  of  the  footstep  he 
knew  so  well. 

He  gave  a  boyish  laugh,  tiptoed  quickly  to  the  old- 
fashioned  settee,  dropped  behind  its  high  back  and 
waited  her  coming. 

Helen  had  hastily  packed  a  travelling  bag  and  thrown 
a  coat  over  her  arm.  She  slowly  entered  the  library  to 
replace  the  portrait  she  had  taken,  kissed  it  and  started 
with  feet  of  lead  and  set,  staring  eyes  to  slip  through 
the  lawn  and  avoid  Tom  as  she  had  promised. 

As  she  approached  the  corner  of  the  settee  the  boy 
leaped  up  with  a  laugh: 

"Where  have  you  been?" 

With  a  quick  movement  of  surprise  she  threw  the 
bag  and  coat  behind  her  back.  Luckily  he  had  leaped 
so  close  he  could  not  see. 

"Where've  you  been?"  he  repeated. 

"Why,  I've  just  come  from  my  room,"  she  replied 
with  an  attempt  at  composure. 

"What  have  you  got  your  hat  for?" 

She  flushed  the  slightest  bit: 

"Why,  I  was  going  for  a  walk." 

"With  a  veil — at  night — what  have  you  got  that 
veil  for?" 

The  boyish  banter  in  his  tones  began  to  yield  to  a 
touch  of  wonder. 

Helen  hesitated: 

"Why,  the  crowds  of  singing  and  shouting  men  on 
the  streets.  I  didn't  wish  to  be  recognized,  and  I 
wanted  to  hear  what  the  speakers  said." 

"You  were  going  to  leave  me  and  go  alone  to  the 
speaker's  stand  ?" 

"Yes.  Your  father  is  going  to  see  you  and  I  was 
389 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

nervous  and  frightened  and  wanted  to  pass  the  time 
until  you  were  free  again" — she  paused,  looked  at  him 
intently  and  spoke  in  a  queer  monotone — "the  negroes 
who  can't  read  and  write  have  been  disfranchised, 
haven't  they?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered  mechanically,  "the  ballot  should 
Clever  have  been  given  them." 

"Yet  there's  something  pitiful  about  it  after  all,  isn't 
there,  Tom?"  She  asked  the  question  with  a  strained 
wistfulness  that  startled  the  boy. 

He  answered  automatically,  but  his  keen,  young 
eyes  were  studying  with  growing  anxiety  every  move 
ment  of  her  face  and  form  and  every  tone  of  her 
voice : 

"I  don't  see  it,"  he  said  carelessly. 

She  laid  her  left  hand  on  his  arm,  the  right  hand 
still  holding  her  bag  and  coat  out  of  sight. 

"Suppose,"  she  whispered,  "that  you  should  wake 
up  to-morrow  morning  and  suddenly  discover  that  a 
strain  of  negro  blood  poisoned  your  veins — what  would 
you  do?" 

Tom  frowneu  and  watched  her  with  a  puzzled  look: 

"Never  thought  of  such  a  thing!" 

She  pressed  his  arm  eagerly: 

"Think — what  would  you  do?" 

"What  would  I  do?"  he  repeated  in  blank  amaze 
ment. 

"Yes." 

His  eyes  were  holding  hers  now  with  a  steady  stare 
of  alarm.  The  questions  she  asked  didn't  interest  him. 
Her  glittering  eyes  and  trembling  hand  did.  Studying 
her  intently  he  said  lightly : 

"To  be  perfectly  honest,  I'd  blow  my  brains  out." 
390 


THE   PARTING 


With  a  cry  she  staggered  back  and  threw  her  hand 
instinctively  up  as  if  to  ward  a  blow: 

"Yes — yes,  you  would — wouldn't  you?" 

He  was  staring  at  her  now  with  blanched  face  and 
she  was  vainly  trying  to  hide  her  bag  and  coat. 

He  seized  her  arms  : 

"Why  are  you  so  excited?  Why  ao  you  tremble 
so?" — he  drew  the  arm  around  that  she  was  holding 
back— "What  is  it?  What's  the  matter?" 

His  eye  rested  on  the  bag,  he  turned  deadly  T)ale  and 
she  dropped  it  with  a  sigh. 

"What — what — does  this  mean?"  he  gashed  "You 
are  trying  to  leave  me  without  a  word?" 

She  staggered  and  fell  limp  into  a  seat : 

"Oh,  Tom,  the  end  has  come,  and  I  must  go !" 

"Go !"  he  cried  indignantly,  "then  I  go,  too !" 

"But  you  can't,  dear !" 

"And  why  not?" 

"Your  father  has  just  told  me  the  whole  hideous 
secret  of  my  birth — and  it's  hopeless !" 

"What  sort  of  man  do  you  think  I  am?  What  sort 
of  love  do  you  think  I've  given  you?  Separate  us  after 
the  solemn  vows  we've  given  to  each  other!  Neither 
man  nor  the  devil  can  come  between  us  now !" 

She  looked  at  him  wistfully: 

"It's  sweet  to  hear  such  words — though  I  know  you 
can't  make  them  good." 

"I'll  make  them  good,"  he  broke  in,  "with  every  drop 
of  blood  in  my  veins — and  no  coward  has  ever  borne 
my  father's  name — it's  good  blood !" 

"That's  just  it— and  blood  will  tell.  It's  the  law  of 
life  and  I've  given  up." 

"Well,  I  haven't  given  up,"  he  protested,  "remember 
391 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

that !  Try  me  with  your  secret — I  laugh  before  I  hear 
it!" 

With  a  gleam  of  hope  in  her  deep  blue  eyes  she  rose 
trembling : 

"You  really  mean  that?  If  I  go  an  outcast  you 
would  go  with  me?" 

"Yes— yes." 

"And  if  a  curse  is  branded  on  my  forehead  you'll  take 
its  shame  as  yours  ?" 

"Yes." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm,  looked  long  and  yearn 
ingly  into  his  eyes,  and  said : 

"Your  father  has  just  told  me  that  I  am  a  negress — 
my  mother  is  an  octoroon!" 

The  boy  flinched  involuntarily,  stared  in  silence  an 
instant,  and  his  form  suddenly  stiffened : 

"I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it!  My  father  has  been 
deceived.  It's  preposterous!" 

Helen  drew  closer  as  if  for  shelter  and  clung  to  his 
hand  wistfully : 

"It  does  seem  a  horrible  joke,  doesn't  it?  I  can't 
realize  it.  But  it's  true.  The  major  gave  me  his  sol 
emn  word  in  tears  of  sympathy.  He  knew  both  my 
father  and  mother.  I  am  a  negress !" 

The  boy's  arm  unconsciously  shrank  the  slightest 
bit  from  her  touch  while  he  stared  at  her  with  wildly 
dilated  eyes  'and  spoke  in  a  hoarse  whisper : 

"It's  impossible !     It's  impossible — I  tell  you !" 

He  attempted  to  lift  his  hand  to  place  it  on  his 
throbbing  forehead.  Helen  clung  to  him  in  frantic 
grief  and  terror: 

"Please,  please — don't  shrink  from  me!  Have  pity 
on  me !  If  you  feel  that  way,  for  God's  sake  don't  let 

392 


THE   PARTING 


me  see  it — don't  let  me  know  it — I — I — can't  endure 
it!     I  can't " 

The  tense  figure  collapsed  in  his  arms  and  the  brown 
head  sank  on  his  breast  with  a  sob  of  despair.  The 
boy  pressed  her  to  his  heart  and  held  her  close.  He 
felt  her  body  shiver  as  he  pushed  the  tangled  ringlets 
back  from  her  high,  fair  forehead  and  felt  the  cold 
beads  of  perspiration.  The  serenaders  at  the  gate  were 
singing  again — a  negro  folk-song.  The  absurd  childish 
words  which  he  knew  so  well  rang  through  the  house, 
a  chanting  mockery. 

"There,  there,"  he  whispered  tenderly,  "I  didn't 
shrink  from  you,  dear.  I  couldn't  shrink  from  you — 
you  only  imagined  it.  I  was  just  stunned  for  a  mo 
ment.  The  blow  blinded  me.  But  it's  all  right  now,  I 
see  things  clearly.  I  love  you — that's  all — and  love 
is  from  God,  or  it's  not  love,  it's  a  sham " 

A  low  sob  and  she  clung  to  him  with  desperate  ten 
derness. 

He  bent  his  head  close  until  the  blonde  hair  mingled 
with  the  rich  brown: 

"Hush,  my  own !  If  a  single  nerve  of  my  body  shrank 
from  your  little  hand,  find  it  and  I'll  tear  it  out !" 

She  withdrew  herself  slowly  from  his  embrace,  and 
brushed  the  tears  from  her  eyes  with  a  little  movement 
of  quiet  resignation: 

"It's  all  right.  I'm  calm  again  and  it's  all  over. 
I  won't  mind  now  if  you  shrink  a  little.  I'm  really  glad 
that  you  did.  It  needed  just  that  to  convince  me  that 
your  father  was  right.  Our  love  would  end  in  the  ruin 
of  your  life.  I  see  it  clearly  now.  It  would  become 
to  you  at  last  a  conscious  degradation.  That  I  couldn't 
endure." 

393 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"I  have  your  solemn  vow,"  he  interrupted  impa 
tiently,  "you're  mine!  I'll  not  give  you  up!" 

She  looked  at  him  sadly: 

"But  I'm  going,  dear,  in  a  few  minutes.  You  can't 
hold  me — now  that  I  know  it's  for  the  best." 

"You  can't  mean  this?" 

She  clung  to  his  hand  and  pressed  it  with  cruel  force : 

"Don't  think  it  isn't  hard.  All  my  life  I've  been  a 
wistful  beggar,  eager  and  hungry  for  love.  In  your 
arms  I  had  forgotten  the  long  days  of  misery.  I've 
been  happy — perfectly,  divinely  happy !  It  will  be 
hard,  the  darkness  and  the  loneliness  again.  But  I 
can't  drag  you  down,  my  sweetheart,  my  hero!  Your 
life  must  be  big  and  brilliant.  I've  dreamed  it  thus. 
You  shall  be  a  man  among  men,  the  world's  great  men — 
and  so  I  am  going  out  of  your  life!" 

"You  shall  not !"  the  boy  cried  fiercely.  "I  tell  you 
I  don't  believe  this  hideous  thing — it's  a  lie,  I  tell  you 
— it's  a  lie,  and  I  don't  care  who  says  iti  Nothing 
shall  separate  us  now.  I'll  go  with  you  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth  and  if  you  sink  into  hell,  I'll  follow  you  there, 
lift  you  in  my  arms  and  fight  my  way  back  through 
its  flames !" 

She  smiled  at  him  tenderly: 

"It's  beautiful  to  hear  you  say  that,  dearest,  but 
our  dream  has  ended!" 

She  stooped,  took  up  the  bag  and  coat,  paused  and 
looked  into  his  face  with  the  hunger  and  longing  of  a 
life  burning  in  her  eyes: 

"But  I  shall  keep  the  memory  of  every  sweet  and 
foolish  word  you  have  spoken,  every  tone  of  your  voice, 
every  line  of  your  face,  every  smile  and  trick  of  your 
lips  and  eyes !  I  know  them  all.  The  old  darkness  will 

394 


THE   PARTING 


not  be  the  same.  I  have  loved  and  I  have  lived.  A 
divine  fire  has  been  kindled  in  my  soul.  I  can  go  into 
no  world  so  far  I  shall  not  feel  the  warmth  of  your 
love,  your  kisses  on  my  lips,  your  strong  arms  pressing 
me  to  your  heart — the  one  true,  manly  heart  that  has 
loved  me.  I  shall  see  your  face  forever  though  I  see  it 
through  a  mist  of  tears — good-by !" 

The  last  word  was  the  merest  whisper. 

The  boy  sprang  toward  her: 

"I  won't  say  it — I  won't — I  won't!" 

"But  you  must!" 

He  opened  his  arms  and  called  in  tones  of  compelling 
anguish : 

"Helen !" 

The  girl's  lips  trembled,  her  eyes  grew  dim,  her  fin 
gers  were  locked  in  a  cruel  grip  trying  to  hold  the  bag 
which  slipped  to  the  floor.  And  then  with  a  cry  she 
threw  herself  madly  into  his  arms : 

"Oh,  I  can't  give  you  up,  dearest!  I  can't — I've 
tried— but  I  can't!" 

He  held  her  clasped  without  a  word,  stroking  her 
hair,  kissing  it  tenderly  and  murmuring  little  inarticu 
late  cries  of  love. 

Norton  suddenly  appeared  in  the  door,  his  face 
blanched  with  horror.  With  a  rush  of  his  tall  figure 
he  was  by  their  side  and  hurled  them  apart: 

"My  God !    Do  you  know  what  you're  doing?" 

He  turned  on  Tom,  his  face  white  with  pain : 

"I  forbid  you  to  ever  see  or  speak  to  this  girl  again !" 

Tom  sprang  back  and  confronted  his  father  : 

"Forbid!" 

Helen  lifted  her  head: 

"He's  right,  Tom." 

395 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

"Yes,"  the  father  said  with  bated  breath,  "in  the 
name  of  the  law — by  all  that's  pure  and  holy,  by  the 
memory  of  the  mother  wrho  bore  you  and  the  angels 
who  guard  the  sanctity  of  every  home,  I  forbid 
you!" 

The  boy  squared  himself  and  drew  his  figure  to  its 
full  height: 

"You're  my  father!  But  I  want  you  to  remember 
that  I'm  of  age.  I'm  twenty-two  years  old  and  I'm  a 
man !  Forbid  ?  How  dare  you  use  such  words  to  me  in 
the  presence  of  the  woman  I  love?" 

Norton's  voice  dropped  to  pitiful  tenderness: 

"You — you — don't  understand,  my  boy.  Helen 
knows  that — I'm  right.  We  have  talked  it  over.  She 
has  agreed  to  go  at  once.  The  carriage  will  be  at  the 
door  in  a  moment.  She  can  never  see  you  again" — he 
paused  and  lifted  his  hand  solemnly  above  Tom's  head 
— "and  in  the  name  of  Almighty  God  I  warn  you  not 
to  attempt  to  follow  her " 

He  turned  quickly,  picked  UD  the  fallen  bag  and 
coat  and  added: 

"I'll  explain  all  to  you  at  last  if  I  must." 

"Well,  I  won't  hear  it !"  Tom  cried  in  rage.  "I'm  a 
free  agent !  I  won't  take  such  orders  from  you  or  any 
other  man !" 

The  sound  of  the  carriage  wheels  were  heard  on  the 
graveled  drive  at  the  door. 

Norton  turned  to  Helen  and  took  her  arm  : 

"Come,  Helen,  the  carriage  is  waiting." 

With  a  sudden  leap  Tom  was  by  his  side,  tore  the 
bag  and  coat  from  his  hand,  hurled  them  to  the  floor 
and  turned  on  his  father  with  blazing  eyes : 

"Now,  look  here,  Dad,  this  thing's  going  too  far! 

396 


THE   PARTING 


You  can't  bulldoze  me.  There's  one  right  no  American 
man  ever  yields  without  the  loss  of  his  self-respect — the 
right  to  choose  the  woman  he  loves.  When  Helen 
leaves  this  house,  I  go  with  her!  I'm  running  this 
thing  now — your  carriage  needn't  wait." 

With  sudden  decision  he  rushed  to  the  porch  and 
and  called: 

"Driver !" 

"Yassah." 

"Go  back  to  your  stable — you're  not  wanted." 

"Yassah." 

"I'll  send  for  you  if  I  want  you — wait  a  minute  till 
I  tell  you." 

Norton's  head  drooued  and  he  blindly  grasped  a 
chair. 

Helen  watched  him  with  growing  pity,  drew  near  and 
said  softly: 

"I'm  sorry,  major,  to  have  brought  you  this 
pain " 

"You  promised  to  go  without  seeing  him !"  he  ex 
claimed  bitterly. 

"I  tried.  I  only  gave  up  for  a  moment.  I  fought 
bravely.  Remember  now  in  all  you  say  to  Tom  that  I 
am  going — that  I  know  I  must  go " 

"Yes,  I  understand,  child,"  he  replied  brokenly,  "and 
my  heart  goes  out  to  you.  Mine  is  heavy  to-night  with 
a  burden  greater  than  I  can  bear.  You're  a  brave  lit 
tle  girl.  The  fault  isn't  yours — it's  mine.  I've  got 
to  face  it  now" — he  paused  and  looked  at  her  tenderly. 
"You  say  that  you've  been  lonely — well,  remember  that 
in  all  your  orphan  life  you  never  saw  an  hour  as  lonely 
as  the  one  my  soul  is  passing  through  now !  The  lone 
liest  road  across  this  earth  is  the  way  of  sin." 

397 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

Helen  watched  him  in  amazement : 

"The  way  of  sin — why " 

Tom's  brusque  entrance  interrupted  her.  With 
quick,  firm  decision  he  took  her  arm  and  led  her  to 
the  door  opening  on  the  hall: 

"Wait  for  me  in  your  room,  dear,"  he  said  quietly. 
"I  have  something  to  say  to  my  father." 

She  looked  at  him  timidly : 

"You  won't  forget  that  he  is  your  father,  and  loves 
you  better  than  his  own  life?" 

"I'll  not  forget." 

She  started  with  sudden  alarm  and  whispered: 

"You  haven't  got  the  pistol  that  you  brought  home 
to-day  from  the  campaign,  have  you?" 

"Surely,  dear " 

"Give  it  to  me!"  she  demanded. 

"No." 

"Why?"  she  asked  pleadingly. 

"I've  too  much  self-respect." 

She  looked  into  his  clear  eyes: 

"Forgive  me,  dear,  but  I  was  so  frightened  just  now. 
You  were  so  violent.  I  never  saw  you  like  that  before. 
I  was  afraid  something  might  happen  in  a  moment  of 
blind  passion,  and  I  could  never  lift  my  head  again " 

"I'll  not  forget,"  he  broke  in,  "if  my  father  does. 
Run  now,  dear,  I'll  join  you  in  a  few  minutes." 

A  pressure  of  the  hand,  a  look  of  love,  and  she  was 
gone.  The  boy  closed  the  door,  quickly  turned  and 
faced  his  father. 


398 


CHAPTER  XXV 

FATHER  AND  SON 

NORTON  had  ignored  the  scene  between  Helen  and 
Tom  and  his  stunned  mind  was  making  a  desperate 
fight  to  prepare  for  the  struggle  that  was  inevitable. 

The  thing  that  gave  him  fresh  courage  was  the 
promise  the  girl  had  repeated  that  she  would  go.  Some 
how  he  had  grown  to  trust  her  implicitly.  He  hadn't 
time  as  yet  to  realize  the  pity  and  pathos  of  such  a 
trust  in  such  an  hour.  He  simply  believed  that  she 
would  keep  her  word.  He  had  to  win  his  fight  now 
with  the  boy  without  the  surrender  of  his  secret.  Could 
he  do  it?  It  was  doubtful,  but  he  was  going  to  try. 
His  back  was  to  the  wall. 

Tom  took  another  step  into  the  room  and  the  father 
turned,  drew  his  tall  figure  erect  in  an  instinctive  move 
ment  of  sorrowful  dignity  and  reserve  and  walked  to 
the  table. 

All  traces  of  anger  had  passed  from  the  boy's  hand 
some  young  face  and  a  look  of  regret  had  taken  its 
place.  He  began  speaking  very  quietly  and  rever 
ently  : 

"Now,  Dad,  we  must  face  this  thing.  It's  a  tragedy 
for  you  perhaps " 

The  father  interrupted: 

"How  big  a  tragedy,  my  son,  I  hope  that  you  may 

never  know " 

399 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

"Anyhow,"  Tom  went  on  frankly,  "I  am  ashamed  of 
the  way  I  acted.  But  you're  a  manly  man  and  you  can 
understand." 

"Yes." 

"I  know  that  all  you've  done  is  because  you  love 
me " 

"How  deeply,  you  can  never  know." 

"I'm  sorry  if  I  forgot  for  a  moment  the  respect  I 
owe  you,  the  reverence  and  love  I  hold  for  you — I've  al 
ways  been  proud  of  you,  Dad — of  your  stainless  name, 
of  the  birthright  you  have  given  me — you  know 
this " 

"Yet  it's  good  to  hear  you  say  it !" 

"And  now  that  I've  said  this,  you'd  as  well  know 
first  as  last  that  any  argument  about  Helen  is  idle 
between  us.  I'm  not  going  to  give  up  the  woman 
Hove!" 

"Ah,  my  boy " 

Tom  lifted  his  hand  emphatically : 

"It's  no  use!  You  needn't  tell  me  that  her  blood  is 
tainted— I  don't  believe  it !" 

The  father  came  closer: 

"You  do  believe  it!  In  the  first  mad  riot  of  passion 
you're  only  trying  to  fool  yourself." 

"It's  unthinkable,  I  tell  you!  and  I've  made  my  de 
cision" — he  paused  a  moment  and  then  demanded: 
"How  do  you  know  her  blood  is  tainted?" 

The  father  answered  firmly: 

"I  have  the  word  both  of  her  mother  and  father." 

"Well,  I  won't  take  their  word.  Some  natures  are 
their  own  defense.  On  them  no  stain  can  rest,  and  I 
stake  my  life  on  Helen's !" 

"My  boy " 

400 


FATHER   AND   SON 


"Oh,  I  know  what  you're  going  to  say — as  a  theory 
it's  quite  correct.  But  it's  one  thing  to  accept  a  theory, 
another  to  meet  the  thing  in  your  own  heart  before 
God  alone  with  your  life  in  your  hands." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  the  father  asked 
savagely. 

"That  for  the  past  hour  I've  been  doing  some  think 
ing  on  my  own  account." 

"That's  just  what  you  haven't  been  doing.  You 
haven't  thought  at  all.  If  you  had,  you'd  know  that 
you  can't  marry  this  girl.  Come,  come,  my  boy,  re 
member  that  you  have  reason  and  because  you  have 
this  power  that's  bigger  than  all  passion,  all  desire,  all 
impulse,  you're  a  man,  not  a  brute " 

"All  right,"  the  boy  broke  in  excitedly,  "submit  it  to 
reason!  I'll  stand  the  test — it's  more  than  you  can 
do.  I  love  this  girl — she's  my  mate.  She  loves  me  and 
I  am  hers.  Haven't  I  taken  my  stand  squarely  on  Na 
ture  and  her  highest  law  ?" 

"No !" 

"What's  higher?     Social  fictions — prejudices?" 

The  father  lifted  his  head : 

"Prejudices!  You  know  as  well  as  I  that  the  white 
man's  instinct  of  racial  purity  is  not  prejudice,  but 
God's  first  law  of  life — the  instinct  of  self-preservation ! 
The  lion  does  not  mate  with  the  jackal!" 

The  boy  flushed  angrily: 

"The  girl  I  love  is  as  fair  as  you  or  I." 

"Even  so,"  was  the  quick  reply,  "we  inherit  ninety 
per  cent,  of  character  from  our  dead  ancestors !  Born 
of  a  single  black  progenitor,  she  is  still  a  negress. 
Change  every  black  skin  in  America  to-morrow  to  the 
white  of  a  lily  and  we'd  yet  have  ten  million  negroes — ten 

401 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

million    negroes    whose   blood    relatives    are    living    in 
Africa  the  life  of  a  savage." 

"Granted  that  what  you  say  it  true — and  I  refuse 
to  believe  it — I  still  have  the  right  to  live  my  own  life 
in  my  own  way." 

"No  man  has  the  right  to  live  life  in  his  own  way  if 
h'f  that  way  he  imperil  millions." 

"And  whom  would  I  imperil?" 

"The  future  American.  No  white  man  ever  lived  who 
uesired  to  be  a  negro.  Every  negro  longs  to  be  a  white 
man.  No  black  man  has  ever  added  an  iota  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  world  of  any  value  to  humanity.  In 
Helen's  body  flows  sixteen  million  tiny  drops  of  blood — 
one  million  black — poisoned  by  the  inheritance  of  thou 
sands  of  years  of  savage  cruelty,  ignorance,  slavery 
and  superstition.  The  life  of  generations  are  bound 
up  in  you.  In  you  are  wrapt  the  onward  years.  Man's 
place  in  nature  is  no  longer  a  myth.  You  are  bound 
by  the  laws  of  heredity — laws  that  demand  a  nobler  not 
a  baser  race  of  men !  Shall  we  improve  the  breed  of 
horses  and  degrade  our  men?  You  have  no  right  to 
damn  a  child  with  such  a  legacy !" 

"But  I  tell  you  I'm  not  trying  to — I  refuse  to  see 
in  her  this  stain!" 

The  father  strode  angrily  to  the  other  side  of  the 
room  in  an  effort  to  control  his  feelings : 

"Because  you  refuse  to  think,  my  boy !"  he  cried  in 
agony.  "I  tell  you,  you  can't  defy  these  laws !  The y 
are  eternal — never  new,  never  old — true  a  thousand 
years  ago,  to-day,  to-morrow  and  on  a  million  years, 
when  this  earth  is  thrown,  a  burnt  cinder,  into  God's 
dust  heap.  I  can't  teli  you  what  I  feel — it  strangles 
me!" 

402 


FATHER   AND   SON 


"No,  and  I  can't  understand  it.  I  feel  one  thing, 
the  touch  of  the  hand  of  the  woman  I  love;  hear  one 
thing,  the  music  of  her  voice " 

"And  in  that  voice,  my  boy,  I  hear  the  crooning  of 
a  savage  mother!  But  yesterday  our  negroes  were 
brought  here  from  the  West  Soudan,  black,  chattering 
savages,  nearer  the  anthropoid  ape  than  any  other  living 
creature.  And  you  would  dare  give  to  a  child  such  a 
mother?  Who  is  this  dusky  figure  of  the  forest  with 
whom  you  would  cross  your  blood?  In  old  Andy  there 
you  see  him  to-day,  a  creature  half  child,  half  animal. 
For  thousands  of  years  beyond  the  seas  he  stole  his 
food,  worked  his  wife,  sold  his  child,  and  ate  his  brother 
— great  God,  could  any  tragedy  be  more  hideous  than 
our  degradation  at  last  to  his  racial  level!" 

"It  can't  happen !     It's  a  myth !" 

"It's  the  most  dangerous  thing  that  threatens  the 
future !"  the  father  cried  with  desperate  earnestness. 
"A  pint  of  ink  can  make  black  gallons  of  water.  The 
barriers  once  down,  ten  million  negroes  can  poison 
the  source  of  life  and  character  for  a  hundred  million 
whites.  This  nation  is  great  for  one  reason  only — 
because  of  the  breed  of  men  who  created  the  Republic ! 
Oh,  my  boy,  when  you  look  on  these  walls  at  your 
fathers,  don't  you  see  this,  don't  you  feel  this,  don't 
you  know  this?" 

Tom  shook  his  head : 

"To-night  I  feel  and  know  one  thing.  I  love  her! 
We  don't  choose  whom  we  love " 

"Ah,  but  if  we  are  more  than  animals,  if  we  reason, 
we  do  choose  whom  we  marry !  Marriage  is  not  merely 
a  question  of  personal  whim,  impulse  or  passion.  It's 
the  one  divine  law  on  which  human  society  rests.  There 

403 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

are  always  men  who  hear  the  call  of  the  Beast  and  fall 
below  their  ideals,  who  trail  the  divine  standards  of 
life  in  the  dust  as  they  slink  under  the  cover  of 
night " 

"At  least,  I'm  not  trying  to  do  that !" 

"No,  worse !  You  would  trample  them  under  your 
feet  at  noon  in  defiance  of  the  laws  of  man  and  God ! 
You're  insane  for  the  moment.  You're  mad  with  pas 
sion.  You're  not  really  listening  to  me  at  all — I  feel 
it!" 

"Perhaps  I'm  not " 

"Yet  you  don't  question  the  truth  of  what  I've  said. 
You  can't  question  it.  You  just  stand  here  blind  and 
maddened  by  desire,  while  I  beg  and  plead,  saying  in 
your  heart :  'I  want  this  woman  and  I'm  going  to  have 
her.'  You've  never  faced  the  question  that  she's  a 
negress — you  can't  face  it,  and  yet  I  tell  you  that  I 
know  it's  true !" 

The  boy  turned  on  his  father  and  studied  him  angrily 
for  a  moment,  his  blue  eyes  burning  into  his,  his  face 
flushed  and  his  lips  curled  with  the  slightest  touch  of  in 
credulity  : 

"And  do  you  really  believe  all  you've  been  saying  to 
me?" 

"As  I  believe  in  God!" 

With  a  quick,  angry  gesture  he  faced  his  father: 

"Well,  you've  had  a  mighty  poor  way  of  showing  it ! 
If  you  really  believed  all  you've  been  saying  to  me,  you 
wouldn't  stop  to  eat  or  sleep  until  every  negro  is  re 
moved  from  physical  contact  with  the  white  race.  And 
yet  on  the  day  that  I  was  born  you  placed  me  in  the 
arms  of  a  negress !  The  first  human  face  on  which  I 
looked  was  hers.  I  grew  at  her  breast.  You  let  her 

404 


FATHER   AND   SON 


love  me  and  teach  me  to  love  her.  You  keep  only 
negro  servants.  I  grow  up  with  them,  fall  into  their 
lazy  ways,  laugh  at  their  antics  and  see  life  through 
their  eyes,  and  now  that  my  life  touches  theirs  at  a 
thousand  points  of  contact,  you  tell  me  that  we  must 
live  together  and  yet  a  gulf  separates  us !  Why  haven't  (  / 
you  realized  this  before?  If  what  you  say  about  Helen 
is  true,  in  God's  name — I  ask  it  out  of  a  heart 
quivering  with  anguish — why  haven't  you  realized  it 
before?  I  demand  an  answer!  I  have  the  right  to 
know !" 

Norton's  head  was  lowered  while  the  boy  poured  out 
his  passionate  protest  and  he  lifted  it  at  the  end  with 
a  look  of  despair: 

"You  have  the  right  to  know,  my  boy.  But  the  South 
has  not  a  valid  answer  to  your  cry.  The  Negro  is  not 
here  by  my  act  or  will,  and  their  continued  presence 
is  a  constant  threat  against  our  civilization.  Equality 
is  the  law  of  life  and  we  dare  not  grant  it  to  the  negro 
unless  we  are  willing  to  descend  to  his  racial  level. 
We  cannot  lift  him  to  ours.  This  truth  forced  me  into 
a  new  life  purpose  twenty  years  ago.  The  campaign 
I  have  just  fought  and  won  is  the  first  step  in  a 
larger  movement  to  find  an  answer  to  your  question  in 
the  complete  separation  of  the  races — and  nothing  is 
surer  than  that  the  South  will  maintain  the  purity  of 
her  home !  It's  as  fixed  as  her  faith  in  God !" 

The  boy  was  quiet  a  moment  and  looked  at  the  tall 
figure  with  a  queer  expression: 

"Has  she  maintained  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Is  her  home  life  clean?" 

"Yes." 

405 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"And  these  millions  of  children  born  in  the  shadows — 
these  mulattoes?" 

The  older  man's  lips  trembled  and  his  brow  clouded : 

"The  lawless  have  always  defied  the  law,  my  son, 
North,  South,  East  and  West,  but  they  have  never 
defended  their  crimes.  Dare  to  do  this  thing  that's  in 
your  heart  and  you  make  of  crime  a  virtue  and  ask 
God's  blessing  on  it.  The  difference  between  the  two 
things  is  as  deep  and  wide  as  the  gulf  between  heaven 
and  hell." 

"My  marriage  to  Helen  will  be  the  purest  and  most 
solemn  act  of  my  life " 

"Silence,  sir !"  the  father  thundered  in  a  burst  of  un 
controllable  passion,  as  he  turned  suddenly  on  him,  his 
face  blanched  and  his  whole  body  trembling.  "I  tell 
you  once  for  all  that  your  marriage  to  this  girl  is  a 
physical  and  moral  impossibility !  And  I  refuse 
to  argue  with  you  a  question  that's  beyond  all  argu 
ment  !" 

The  two  men  glared  at  each  other  in  a  duel  of  wills 
in  which  steel  cut  steel  without  a  tremor  of  yielding. 
And  then  with  a  sudden  flash  of  anger,  Tom  turned  on 
his  heel  crying: 

"All  right,  then!" 

With  swift,  determined  step  he  moved  toward  the 
door.  The  father  grasped  the  corner  of  the  table  for 
support : 

"Tom !" 

His  hands  were  extended  in  pitiful  appeal  when  the 
boy  stopped  as  if  in  deep  study,  turned,  looked  at  him, 
and  walked  deliberately  back : 

"I'm  going  to  ask  you  some  personal  questions !" 

In  spite  of  his  attempt  at  self-control,  Norton's  face 
406 


FATHER   AND   SON 


paled.  He  drew  himself  up  with  an  attempt  at  dignified 
adjustment  to  the  new  situation,  but  his  hands  were 
trembling  as  he  nervously  repeated: 

"Personal  questions  ?" 

"Yes.  There's  something  very  queer  about  your 
position.  Your  creed  forbids  you  to  receive  a  negro  as 
a  social  equal?" 

"Yes." 

The  boy  suddenly  lifted  his  head: 

"Why  did  you  bring  Helen  into  this  house?" 

"I  didn't  bring  her." 

"You  didn't  invite  her?" 

"No." 

"She  says  that  you  did." 

"She  thought  so." 

"She  got  an  invitation?" 

"Yes." 

"Signed  with  your  name?" 

"Yes,  yes." 

"Who  dared  to  write  such  a  letter  without  your 
knowledge  ?" 

"I  can't  tell  you  that." 

"I  demand  it!" 

Norton  struggled  between  anger  and  fear  and  finally 
answered  in  measured  tones : 

"It  was  forged  by  an  enemy  who  wished  to  embarrass 
me  in  this  campaign." 

"You  know  who  wrote  it?" 

"I  suspect." 

"You  don't  know?" 

"I  said,  I  suspect,"  was  the  angry  retort. 

"And  you  didn't  kill  him?" 

"In  this  campaign  my  hands  were  tied." 

407 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 


The  boy,  watching  furtively  his  father's  increasing 
nervousness  and  anger,  continued  his  questions  in  a 
slower,  cooler  tone : 

"When  you  returned  and  found  her  here,  you  could 
have  put  her  out?" 

"Yes,"  Norton  answered  tremblingly,  "and  I  ought 
to  have  done  it!" 

"But  you  didn't?" 

"No." 

"Why?" 

The  father  fumbled  his  watch  chain,  mo  ~ed  uneasily 
and  finally  said  with  firmness : 

"I  am  Helen's  guardian!" 

The  boy  lifted  his  brows : 

"You  are  supposed  to  be  his  attorney  only.  Why 
did  you,  of  all  men  on  earth,  accept  such  a  position?" 

"I  felt  that  I  had  to." 

"And  the  possibility  of  my  meeting  this  girl  never 
occurred  to  you?  You,  who  have  dinned  into  my  ears 
from  childhood  that  I  should  keep  myself  clean  from 
the  touch  of  such  pollution — why  did  you  take  the 
risk?" 

"A  sense  of  duty  to  one  to  whom  I  felt  bound." 

"Duty?" 

"Yes." 

"It  must  have  been  deep — what  duty?" 

Norton  lifted  his  hand  in  a  movement  of  wounded 
pride : 

"My  boy !" 

"Come,  come,  Dad,  don't  shuffle;  this  thing's  a  mat 
ter  of  life  and  death  with  me  and  you  must  be  fair " 

"I'm  trying " 

"I  want  to  know  why  you  are  Helen's  guardian,  ex- 

408 


FATHER   AND   SON 


actly  why.     We  must  face  each  other  to-day  with  souls 
bare — why  are  you  her  guardian?" 

"I— I— can't  tell  you." 

"You've  got  to  tell  me !" 

"You  must  trust  me  in  this,  my  son !" 

"I  won't  do  it !"  the  boy  cried,  trembling  with  passion 
that  brought  the  tears  blinding  to  his  eyes.  "We're 
not  father  and  son  now.  We  face  each  other  man  to 
man  with  two  lives  at  stake — hers  and  mine!  You 
can't  ask  me  to  trust  you!  I  won't  do  it — I've  got 
to  know!" 

The  father  turned  away: 

"I  can't  betray  this  secret  even  to  you,  my  boy." 

"Does  any  one  else  share  it?" 

"Why  do  you  use  that  queer  tone?  What  do 
you  mean?"  The  father's  last  question  was  barely 
breathed. 

"Nothing,"  the  boy  answered  with  a  toss  of  his 
head.  "Does  any  one  in  this  house  suspect  it?" 

"Possibly." 

Again  Tom  paused,  watching  keenly: 

"On  the  day  you  returned  and  found  Helen  here, 
you  quarrelled  with  Cleo?" 

Norton  wheeled  with  sudden  violence: 

"We  won't  discuss  this  question  further,  sir !" 

"Yes,  we  will,"  was  the  steady  answer  through  set 
teeth.  "Haven't  you  been  afraid  of  Cleo?" 

The  father's  eyes  were  looking  into  his  now  with  a 
steady  stare: 

"I  refuse  to  be  cross-examined,  sir!" 

Tom  ignored  his  answer: 

"Hasn't  Cleo  been  blackmailing  you?" 

"No— no." 

409 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

The  boy  held  his  father's  gaze  until  it  wavered,  and 
then  in  cold  tones  said: 

"You  are  not  telling  me  the  truth !" 

Norton  flinched  as  if  struck: 

"Do  you  know  what  you  are  saying.  Have  you  lost 
your  senses?" 

Tom  held  his  ground  with  dogged  coolness  : 

"Have  you  told  me  the  truth?" 

"Yes." 

"It's  a  lie !" 

The  words  were  scarcely  spoken  when  Norton's 
clenched  fist  struck  him  a  blow  full  in  the  face. 

A  wild  cry  of  surprise,  inarticulate  in  fury,  came 
from  the  boy's  lips  as  he  staggered  against  the  table. 
He  glared  at  his  father,  drew  back  a  step,  his  lips 
twitching,  his  breath  coming  in  gasps,  and  suddenly  felt 
for  the  revolver  in  his  pocket. 

With  a  start  of  horror  the  father  cried : 

"My  boy!" 

The  hand  dropped  limp,  he  leaned  against  the  table 
for  support  and  sobbed: 

"O  God  !   Let  me  die  !" 

Norton  rushed  to  his  side,  his  voice  choking  with 
grief : 

"Tom,  listen !" 

"I  won't  listen!"  he  hissed.  "I  never  want  to  hear 
the  sound  of  your  voice  again !" 

"Don't  say  that — you  don't  mean  it!"  the  father 
pleaded. 

"I  do  mean  it !" 

Norton  touched  his  arm  tenderly: 

"You  can't  mean  it,  Tom.  You're  all  I've  got  in  the 
world.  You  mustn't  say  that.  Forgive  me — I  was 

410 


FATHER   AND   SON 


mad.  I  didn't  know  what  I  was  doing.  I  didn't  mean 
to  strike  you.  I  forgot  for  a  moment  that  you're  a 
man,  proud  and  sensitive  as  I  am " 

The  boy  tore  himself  free  from  his  touch  and  crossed 
the  room  with  quick,  angry  stride  and  turned: 

"Well,  you'd  better  not  forget  it  again" — he  paused 
and  drew  himself  erect.  "You're  my  father,  but  I  tell 
you  to  your  face  that  I  hate  and  loathe  you " 

The  silver-gray  head  drooped : 

"That  I  should  have  lived  to  hear  it !" 

"And  I  want  you  to  understand  one  thing,"  Tom  went 
on  fiercely,  "if  an  angel  from  heaven  told  me  that 
Helen's  blood  was  tainted,  I'd  demand  proofs!  You 
have  shown  none,  and  I'm  not  going  to  give  up  the 
woman  I  love !" 

Norton  supported  himself  by  the  table  and  felt 
his  way  along  its  edges  as  if  blinded.  His  eyes 
were  set  with  a  half-mad  stare  as  he  gripped  Tom's 
shoulders : 

"I  love  you,  my  boy,  with  a  love  beyond  your  ken,  i 
a  love  that  can  be  fierce  and  cruel  when  God  calls,  and  i 
sooner  than  see  you  marry  this  girl,  I'll  kill  you  with  i 
my  own  hands  if  I  must!" 

The  answer  came  slowly:  » 

"And  you  can't  guess  what's  happened?" 

"Guess — what's — happened!"  the  father  repeated  in 
a  whisper.  "What  do  you  mean?" 

"That  I'm  married  already !" 

With  hands  uplifted,  his  features  convulsed,  the 
father  fell  back,  his  voice  a  low  piteous  shriek: 

"Merciful  God !— No  !" 

"Married  an  hour  before  you  dragged  me  away  in 
that  campaign !"  he  shouted  in  triumph.  "I  knew  you'd 

411 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

never  consent  and  so  I  took  matters  into  my  own 
hands !" 

With  a  leap  Norton  grasped  the  boy  again  and  shook 
him  madly: 

"Married  already?  It's  not  true,  I  tell  you!  It's 
not  true.  You're  lying  to  me — lying  to  gain  time — 
it's  not  true !" 

"You  wish  me  to  swear  it?" 

"Silence,  sir!"  the  father  cried  in  solemn  tones. 
"You  are  my  son — this  is  my  house — I  order  you  to 
be  silent !" 

"Before  God,  I  swear  it's  true !  Helen  is  my  law 
ful " 

"Don't  say  it!  It's  false— you  lie,  I  tell  you!" 
Again  the  father  shook  him  with  cruel  violence,  his 
eyes  staring  with  the  glitter  of  a  maniac. 

Tom  seized  the  trembling  hands  and  threw  them  from 
his  shoulders  with  a  quick  movement  of  anger: 

"If  that's  all  you've  got  to  say,  sir,  excuse  me,  I'll 
go  to  my  wife  !" 

He  wheeled,  slammed  the  door  and  was  gone. 

The  father  stared  a  moment,  stunned,  looked  around 
blankly,  placed  his  hands  over  his  ears  and  held  them, 
crying : 

"God  have  mercy!" 

He  rushed  to  a  window  and  threw  it  open. 
The  band  was  playing  "For  He's  a  Jolly  Good  Fel 
low!"  The  mocking  strains  rolled  over  his  prostrate 
soul.  He  leaned  heavily  against  the  casement  and 
groaned : 

"My  God!" 

He  slammed  the  sash,  staggered  back  into  the  room, 
lifted  his  eyes  in  a  leaden  stare  at  the  portrait  over 

412 


FATHER   AND   SON 


the  mantel,  and  then  rushed  toward  it  with  uplifted 
arms  and  streaming  eyes: 

"It's  not  true.,  dearest!  Don't  believe  it — it's  not 
true,  I  tell  you !  It's  not  true !" 

The  voice  sank  into  inarticulate  sobs,  he  reeled  and 
fell,  a  limp,  black  heap  on  the  floor. 


418 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  ONE    CHANCE 

THE  dim  light  began  to  creep  into  the  darkened 
brain  at  last.  Norton's  eyes  opened  wider  and  the  long 
arms  felt  their  way  on  the  floor  until  they  touched  a 
rug  and  then  a  chair.  He  tried  to  think  what  had 
happened  and  why  he  was  lying  there.  It  seemed  a 
dream,  half  feverish,  half  restful.  His  head  was  aching 
and  he  was  very  tired. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  murmured,  unable  to  lift 
his  head. 

He  was  whirling  through  space  again  and  the  room 
faded.  Once  before  in  his  life  had  he  been  knocked  in 
sensible.  From  the  trenches  before  Petersburg  in  the 
last  days  of  the  war  he  had  led  his  little  band  of  less 
than  five  hundred  ragged,  half-starved,  tatterdemalions 
in  a  mad  charge  against  the  line  in  front.  A  bomb  from 
a  battery  on  a  hilltop  exploded  directly  before  them. 
He  had  been  thrown  into  the  air  and  landed  on  a  heap 
of  dead  bodies,  bruised  and  stunned  into  insensibility. 
He  had  waked  feeling  the  dead  limbs  and  wondering  if 
they  were  his  own. 

He  rubbed  his  hands  now,  first  over  his  head,  and 
then  over  each  limb,  to  find  if  all  were  there.  He 
felt  his  body  to  see  if  a  bomb  had  torn  part  of  it 
away. 

And  then  the  light  of  memory  suddenly  flashed  into 
414 


THE   ONE   CHANCE 


the  darkened  mind  and  he  drew  himself  to  his  knees  and 
fumbled  his  way  to  a  chair. 

"Married?  Married  already!"  he  gasped.  "O,  God, 
it  can't  be  true !  And  he  said,  'married  an  hour  before 
you  dragged  me  away  in  that  campaign'  " — it  was  too 
hideous !  He  laughed  in  sheer  desperation  and  again 
his  brain  refused  to  work.  He  pressed  his  hands  to 
his  forehead  and  looked  about  the  room,  rose,  staggered 
to  the  bell  and  rang  for  Andy. 

When  his  black  face  appeared,  he  lifted  his  blood 
shot  eyes  and  said  feebly: 

"Whiskey " 

The  negro  bowed: 

"Yassah!" 

He  pulled  himself  together  and  tried  to  walk.  He 
could  only  reel  from  one  piece  of  furniture  to  the  next. 
His  head  was  on  fire.  He  leaned  again  against  the 
mantel  for  support  and  dropped  his  head  on  his  arm 
in  utter  weariness : 

"I  must  think!     I  must  think!" 

Slowly  the  power  to  reason  returned. 

"What  can  I  do?  What  can  I  do?"  he  kept  repeat 
ing  mechanically,  until  the  only  chance  of  escape 
crept  slowly  into  his  mind.  He  grasped  it  with  feverish 
hope. 

If  Tom  had  married  but  an  hour  before  leaving  on 
that  campaign,  he  hadn't  returned  until  to-day.  But 
had  he?  It  was,  of  course,  a  physical  possibility.  From 
the  nearby  counties,  he  could  have  ridden  a  swift  horse 
through  the  night,  reached  home  and  returned  the  next 
day  without  his  knowing  it.  It  was  possible,  but  not 
probable.  He  wouldn't  believe  it  until  he  had  to. 

If  he  had  married  in  haste  the  morning  he  had  left 
415 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

town  and  had  only  rejoined  Helen  to-night,  it  was  no 
marriage.  It  was  a  ceremony  that  had  no  meaning.  In 
law  it  was  void  and  could  be  annulled  immediately.  But 
if  he  were  really  married  in  all  that  word  means — his 
mind  stopped  short  and  refused  to  go  on. 

He  would  cross  that  bridge  when  he  came  to  it.  But 
he  must  find  out  at  once  and  he  must  know  before  he 
saw  Tom  again. 

His  brain  responded  with  its  old  vigor  under  the 
pressure  of  the  new  crisis.  One  by  one  his  powers  re 
turned  and  his  mind  was  deep  in  its  tragic  problem 
when  Andy  entered  the  room  with  a  tray  on  which 
stood  a  decanter  of  whiskey,  a  glass  of  water  and  two 
small  empty  glasses. 

The  negro  extended  the  tray.  Norton  was  staring 
into  space  and  paid  no  attention. 

Andy  took  one  of  the  empty  glasses  and  clicked  it 
against  the  other.  There  was  still  no  sign  of  recogni 
tion  until  he  pushed  the  tray  against  Norton's  arm  and 
cleared  his  throat: 

"Ahem!   Ahem!" 

The  dazed  man  turned  slowly  and  looked  at  the  tray 
and  then  at  the  grinning  negro : 

"What's  this?" 

Andy's  face  kindled  with  enthusiasm: 

"Dat  is  moonshine,  sah — de  purest  mountain  dew — 
yassah !" 

"Whiskey?" 

"Yassah,"  was  the  astonished  reply,  "de  whiskey  you 
jis  ring  fer,  sah!" 

"Take  it  back !" 

Andy  could  not  believe  his  ears.  The  major  was 
certainly  in  a  queer  mood.  Was  he  losing  his  mind? 

416 


THE   ONE   CHANCE 


There  was  nothing  to  do  but  obey.  He  bowed  and 
turned  away: 

"Yassah." 

Norton  watched  him  with  a  dazed  look  and  cried 
suddenly : 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"Back!" 

"Stop!" 

Andy  stopped  with  a  sudden  jerk: 

"Yassah!" 

"Put  that  tray  down  on  the  table !" 

The  negro  obeyed  but  watched  his  master  out  of 
the  corners  of  his  eye: 

"Yassah!" 

Again  Norton  forgot  Andy's  existence,  his  eyes  fixed 
in  space,  his  mind  in  a  whirl  of  speculation  in  which  he 
felt  his  soul  and  body  sinking  deeper.  The  negro  was 
watching  him  with  increasing  suspicion  and  fear  as  he 
turned  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the  table. 

"What  are  you  standing  there  for?"  he  asked  sharply. 

"You  say  stop,  sah." 

"Well,  get  away — get  out!"  Norton  cried  with  sud 
den  anger. 

Andy  backed  rapidly: 

"Yassah!" 

As  he  reached  the  doorway  Norton's  command 
rang  so  sharply  that  the  negro  spun  around  on  one 
foot: 

"Wait!" 

«Y— yas— sah!" 

The  master  took  a  step  toward  the  trembling  figure 
with  an  imperious  gesture: 

"Come  here!" 

417 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

Andy  approached  gingerly,  glancing  from  side  to 
side  for  the  best  way  of  retreat  in  case  of  emer 
gency  : 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  Norton  demanded. 

Andy  laughed  feebly: 

"I — I — I  dunno,  sah;  I  wuz  des  wonderin'  what's  de 
matter  wid  you,  sah!" 

"Tell  me!" 

The  negro's  teeth  were  chattering  as  he  glanced 
up: 

"Yassah!     I  tell  all  I  know,  sah!" 

Norton  fixed  him  with  a  stern  look: 

"Has  Tom  been  back  here  during  the  past  four 
weeks?" 

"Nasah!"  was  the  surprised  answer,  "he  bin  wid  you, 
sah!" 

The  voice  softened  to  persuasive  tones: 

"He  hasn't  slipped  back  here  even  for  an  hour  since 
I've  been  gone?" 

"I  nebber  seed  him !" 

"I  didn't  ask  you,"  Norton  said  threateningly, 
"whether  you'd  'seed'  him" — he  paused  and  dropped 
each  word  with  deliberate  emphasis — "I  asked  you  if 
you  knew  whether  he'd  been  here?" 

Andy  mopped  his  brow  and  glanced  at  his  inquisitor 
with  terror: 

"Nasah,  I  don't  know  nuttin',  sah!" 

"Haven't  you  lied  to  me?" 

"Yassah !  yassah,"  the  negro  replied  in  friendly  con 
ciliation.  "I  has  per-var-i-cated  sometimes — but  I  sho 
is  tellin'  you  de  truf  dis  time,  sah !" 

The  master  glared  at  him  a  moment  and  suddenly 
sprang  at  his  throat,  both  hands  clasping  his  neck  with 

418 


THE   ONE   CHANCE 


a  strangling  grip.  Andy  dropped  spluttering  to  his 
knees. 

"You're  lying  to  me!"  Norton  growled.  "Out  with 
the  truth  now" — his  grip  tightened — "out  with  it,  or 
I'll  choke  it  out  of  you !" 

Andy  grasped  the  tightening  fingers  and  drew  them 
down: 

"Fer  Gawd's   sake,  major,  doan'   do   dat!" 

"Has  Tom  been  back  here  during  the  past  weeks  to 
see  Miss  Helen?" 

Andy  struggled  with  the  desperate  fingers: 

"Doan'  do  dat,  major — doan'  do  dat!  I  ain't  holdin' 
nuttin'  back — I  let  it  all  out,  sah !" 

The  grip  slackened: 

"Then  out  with  the  whole  truth !" 

"Yassah.  Des  tell  me  what  ye  wants  me  ter  say, 
sah,  an'  I  sho  say  hit !" 

"Bah!  You  miserable  liar!"  Norton  cried  in  dis 
gust,  hurling  him  to  the  floor,  and  striding  angrily 
from  the  room.  "You're  all  in  this  thing,  all  of  you! 
You're  all  in  it— all  in  it !" 

Andy  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  rushed  to  the  window 
in  time  to  see  him  hurry  down  the  steps  and  disappear 
in  the  shadows  of  the  lawn.  He  stood  watching  with 
open  mouth  and  staring  eyes : 

"Well,  'fore  de  Lawd,  ef  he  ain't  done  gone  plum 


crazy !" 


419 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

BETWEEN    TWO    FIRES 

So  intent  was  Andy's  watch  on  the  lawn,  so  rapt  his 
wonder  and  terror  at  the  sudden  assault,  he  failed  to 
hear  Cleo's  step  as  she  entered  the  room,  walked  to 
his  side  and  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder: 

"Andy " 

With  a  loud  groan  he  dropped  to  his  knees : 

"De  Lawd  save  me !" 

Cleo  drew  back  with  amazement  at  the  prostrate  fig 
ure: 

"What  on  earth's  the  matter?" 

"Oh — oh,  Lawd,"  he  shivered,  scrambling  to  his  feet 
and  mopping  his  brow.  "Lordy,  I  thought  de  major 
got  me  dat  time  sho !" 

"You  thought  the  major  had  you?"  Cleo  cried  in 
credulously. 

Andy  ran  back  to  the  window  and  looked  out 
again : 

"Yassam — yassam!  De  major  try  ter  kill  me — he's 
er  regular  maniacker — gone  wild " 

"What  about?" 

The  black  hands  went  to  his  throat: 

"Bout  my  windpipes,  'pears  like !" 

"What  did  he  do?" 

"Got  me  in  de  gills!" 

"Why?" 

420 


BETWEEN   TWO   FIEES 

"Dunno,"  was  the  whispered  answer  as  he  peered  out 
the  window.  "He  asked  me  if  Mr.  Tom  been  back  here 
in  de  past  fo'  weeks " 

"Asked  if  Tom  had  been  back  here?" 

"Yassam!" 

"What  a  fool  question,  when  he's  had  the  boy  with 
him  every  day !  He  must  have  gone  crazy." 

"Yassam!"  Andy  agreed  with  unction  as  he  turned 
back  into  the  room  and  threw  both  hands  high 
above  his  head  in  wild  gestures.  "He  say  we  wuz 
all  in  it !  Dat  what  he  say — we  wuz  all  in  it !  All  in 
it!" 

"In  what?" 

"Gawd  knows !"  he  cried,  as  his  hands  again  went  to 
his  neck  to  feel  if  anything  were  broken,  "Gawd  knows, 
but  he  sho  wuz  gittin'  inside  er  me !" 

Cleo  spoke  with  stern  appeal: 

"Well,  you're  a  man;  you'll  know  how  to  defend 
yourself  next  time,  won't  you?" 

"Yassam ! — yas,  m'am !"  Andy  answered  boldly.  "Oh, 
I  fit  'im !  Don't  you  think  I  didn't  fight  him !  I  fit  des 
lak  er  wild-cat — yassam!" 

The  woman's  eyes  narrowed  and  her  voice  purred : 

"You're  going  to  stand  by  me  now?" 

"Dat  I  is !"  was  the  brave  response. 

"You'll  do  anything  for  me?" 

"Yassam!" 

"Defend  me  with  your  life  if  the  major  attacks  me 
to-night?" 

"Dat  I  will!" 

Cleo  leaned  close: 

"You'll  die  for  me?" 

"Yassam!  yassam — I'll  die  fer  you — I'll  die  fer  ye; 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

of  cose  I'll  die  for  ye!  B-b-but  fer  Gawd's  sake 
what  ye  want  wid  er  dead  nigger?" 

Andy  leaped  back  in  terror  as  Norton's  tall  figure 
suddenly  appeared  in  the  door,  his  rumpled  iron-gray 
hair  gleaming  in  the  shadows,  his  eyes  flashing  with  an 
unnatural  light.  He  quickly  crossed  the  room  and 
lifted  his  index  finger  toward  Cleo : 

"Just  a  word  with  you " 

The  woman's  hands  met  nervously,  and  she  glanced 
at  Andy: 

"Very  well,  but  I  want  a  witness.     Andy  can  stay." 

Norton  merely  glanced  at  the  negro: 

"Get  out!" 

"Yassah!" 

"Stay  where  you  are !"  Cleo  commanded. 

"Y — yassam" — Andy  stammered,  halting. 

"Get  out !"  Norton  growled. 

Andy  jumped  into  the  doorway  at  a  single  bound: 

"Done  out,  sah!" 

The  major  lifted  his  hand  and  the  negro  stopped: 

"Tell  Minerva  I  want  to  see  her." 

Andy  hastened  toward  the  hall,  the  whites  of  his  eyes 
shining: 

"Yassah,  but  she  ain't  in  de  kitchen,  sah !" 

"Find  her  and  bring  her  here!"  Norton  thundered. 
His  words  rang  like  the  sudden  peal  of  a  gun  at  close 
quarters : 

Andy  jumped: 

"Yassah,  yassah,  I  fetch  her!  I  fetch  her!"  As  he 
flew  through  the  door  he  repeated  humbly : 

"I   fetch   her,   right  away,   sah — right    away,  sah!" 

Cleo  watched  his  cowardly  desertion  with  lips  curled 
in  scorn. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

A  SURPRISE 

FOR  a  while  Norton  stood  with  folded  arms  gazing 
at  Cleo,  his  eyes  smouldering  fires  of  wonder  and  loath 
ing.  The  woman  was  trembling  beneath  his  fierce  scru 
tiny,  but  he  evidently  had  not  noted  the  fact.  His  mind 
was  busy  with  a  bigger  problem  of  character  and  the 
possible  depths  to  which  a  human  being  might  fall 
and  still  retain  the  human  form.  He  was  wondering 
how  a  man  of  his  birth  and  breeding,  the  heir  to  cen 
turies  of  culture  and  refinement,  of  high  thinking  and 
noble  aspirations,  could  ever  have  sunk  to  the  level 
of  this  yellow  animal — this  bundle  of  rags  and  coarse 
flesh!  It  was  incredible!  His  loathing  for  her 
was  surpassed  by  one  thing  only — his  hatred  of  him 
self. 

He  was  free  in  this  moment  as  never  before.  In  the 
fearlessness  of  death  soul  and  body  stood  erect  and 
gazed  calmly  out  on  time  and  eternity. 

There  was  one  thing  about  the  woman  he  couldn't 
understand.  That  she  was  without  moral  scruple — • 
that  she  was  absolutely  unmoral  in  her  fundamental 
being — he  could  easily  believe.  In  fact,  he  could  be 
lieve  nothing  else.  That  she  would  not  hesitate  to  defy 
every  law  of  God  or  man  to  gain  her  end,  he  never 
doubted  for  a  moment.  But  that  a  creature  of  her 
cunning  and  trained  intelligence  could  deliberately  de- 

423 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

stroy  herself  by  such  an  act  of  mad  revenge  was  un 
reasonable.  He  began  dimly  to  suspect  that  her  plans 
had  gone  awry.  How  completely  she  had  been  crushed 
by  her  own  trap  he  could  not  yet  guess. 

She  was  struggling  frantically  now  to  regain  her 
composure  but  his  sullen  silence  and  his  piercing  eyes 
were  telling  on  her  nerves.  She  was  on  the  verge  of 
screaming  in  his  face  when  he  said  in  low,  intense  tones : 

"You  did  get  even  with  me — didn't  you?" 

"Yes !" 

"I  didn't  think  you  quite  capable  of  this !" 

His  words  were  easier  to  bear  than  silence.  She  felt 
an  instant  relief  and  pulled  herself  together  with  a 
touch  of  bravado : 

"And  now  that  you  see  I  am,  what  are  you  going  to 
do  about  it?" 

"That's  my  secret,"  was  the  quiet  reply.  "There's 
just  one  thing  that  puzzles  me!" 

"Indeed!" 

"How  you  could  willfully  and  deliberately  do  this 
beastly  thing?" 

"For  one  reason  only,  I  threw  them  together  and 
brought  about  their  love  affair " 

"Revenge — yes,"  Norton  interrupted,  "but  the  boy — 
you  don't  hate  him — you  can't.  You've  always  loved 
him  as  if  he  were  your  own " 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 

"I'm  wondering " 

"What?" 

His  voice  was  low,  vibrant  but  quiet: 

"Why,  if  your  mother  instincts  have  always  been  so 
powerful  and  you've  loved  my  boy  with  such  devotion" 
— the  tones  quickened  to  sudden  menace — "why  you 


'A    SURPRISE 


were  so  willing  to  give  up  your  own  child  that  day 
twenty  years  ago?" 

He  held  her  gaze  until  her  own  fell: 

"I — I — don't  understand  you,"  she  said  falteringly. 

He  seized  her  with  violence  and  drew  her  squarely 
before  him: 

"Look  at  me !"  he  cried  fiercely.  "Look  me  in  the 
face !"  He  paused  until  she  slowly  lifted  her  eyes  to  his 
and  finally  glared  at  him  with  hate.  "I  want  to  see  your 
soul  now  if  you've  got  one.  There's  just  one  chance 
and  I'm  clutching  at  that  as  a  drowning  man  a 
straw." 

"Well?"  she  asked  defiantly. 

Norton's  words  were  hurled  at  her,  each  one  a  solid 
shot: 

"Would  you  have  given  up  that  child  without  a  strug 
gle — if  she  had  really  been  your  own?" 

"Why — what — do  you — mean  ?"  Cleo  asked,  her  eyes 
shifting. 

"You  know  what  I  mean.  If  Helen  is  really  your 
child,  why  did  you  give  her  up  so  easily  that  day?" 

"Why?"  she  repeated  blankly. 

"Answer  my  question !" 

With  an  effort  she  recovered  her  composure: 

"You  know  why!  I  was  mad.  I  was  a  miserable 
fool.  I  did  it  because  you  asked  it.  I  did  it  to  please 
you,  and  I've  cursed  myself  for  it  ever  since." 

Norton's  grip  slowly  relaxed,  and  he  turned  thought 
fully  away.  The  woman's  hand  went  instinctively  to 
the  bruises  he  had  left  on  her  arms  as  she  stepped  back 
nearer  the  door  and  watched  him  furtively. 

"It's  possible,  yes !"  he  cried  turning  again  to  face 
her  suddenly.  "And  yet  if  you  are  human  how  could 

425 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

you  dare  defy  the  laws  of  man  and  God  to  bring  about 
this  marriage?" 

"It's  not  a  question  of  marriage  yet,"  she  sneered. 
"You've  simply  got  to  acknowledge  her,  that's  all. 
That's  why  I  brought  her  here.  That's  why  I've  helped 
their  love  affair.  You're  in  my  power  now.  You've  got 
to  tell  Tom  that  Helen  is  my  daughter,  and  yours — his 
half  sister !  Now  that  they're  in  love  with  one  another 
you've  got  to  do  it!" 

Norton  drew  back  in  amazement : 

"You  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  don't  know  that  they 
are  married?" 

With  a  cry  of  surprise  and  terror,  the  woman  leaped 
to  his  side,  her  voice  a  whisper: 

"Married?     Who  says  they  are  married?'" 

"Tom  has  just  said  so." 

"But  they  are  not  married!"  she  cried  hysterically. 
"They  can't  marry !" 

Norton  fixed  her  with  a  keen  look: 

"They  are  married!" 

The  woman  wrung  her  hands  nervously: 

"But  you  can  separate  them  if  you  tell  them  the 
truth.  That's  all  you've  got  to  do.  Tell  them  now — 
tell  them  at  once!" 

Never  losing  the  gaze  with  which  he  was  piercing  her 
BOU!  Norton  said  in  slow  menacing  tones : 

"There's  another  way!" 

He  turned  from  her  suddenly  and  walked  toward 
the  desk.  She  followed  a  step,  trembling. 

"Another  way" — she  repeated. 

Norton  turned: 

"An  old  way  brave  men  have  always  known — I'll  take 
it  if  I  must!" 

426 


SURPRISE 


Chilled  with  fear  Cleo  glanced  in  a  panic  about  the 
room  and  spoke  feebly: 

"You — you — don't  mean " 

Minerva  and  Andy  entered  cautiously  as  Norton 
answered : 

"No  matter  what  I  mean,  it's  enough  for  you  to 
know  that  I'm  free — free  from  you — I  breathe  clean 
air  at  last!" 

Minerva  shot  Cleo  a  look : 

"Praise  God!" 

Cleo  extended  a  hand  in  pleading : 

"Major " 

"That  will  do  now!"  he  said  sternly.     "Go!" 

Cleo  turned  hurriedly  to  the  door  leading  toward  the 
stairs. 

"Not  that  way !"  Norton  called  sharply.  "Tom  has 
no  further  need  of  your  advice.  Go  to  the  servants' 
quarters  and  stay  there.  I  am  the  master  of  this  house 
to-night!" 

Cleo  slowly  crossed  the  room  and  left  through  the 
door  leading  to  the  kitchen,  watching  Norton  with  ter 
ror.  Minerva  broke  into  a  loud  laugh  and  Andy  took 
refuge  behind  her  ample  form. 


427 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

VIA    DOLOBOSA 

MINERVA  was  still  laughing  at  the  collapse  of  her 
enemy  and  Andy  sheltering  himself  behind  her  when 
a  sharp  call  cut  her  laughter  short : 

"Minerva!" 

"Yassah" — she  answered  soberly. 

"You  have  been  a  faithful  servant  to  me,"  Norton 
began,  "you  have  never  lied " 

"An'  I  ain't  gwine  ter  begin  now,  sah." 

He  searched  her  black  face  keenly: 

"Did  Tom  slip  back  here  to  see  Miss  Helen  while 
I  was  away  on  this  last  trip?" 

Minerva  looked  at  Andy,  fumbled  with  her  apron, 
started  to  speak,  hesitated  and  finally  admitted  feebly: 

"Yassah!" 

Andy's  eyes  fairly  bulged : 

"De  Lordy,  major,  I  didn't  know  dat,  sah!" 

Norton  glanced  at  him: 

"Shut  up!" 

"You  ain't  gwine  ter  be  hard  on  'em,  major?"  Min 
erva  pleaded. 

He  ignored  her  interruption  and  went  on  evenly: 

"How  many  times  did  he  come?" 

"Twice,  sah." 

"He  sho  come  in  de  night  time  den!"  Andy  broke 
in.  "I  nebber  seed  'im  once!" 

428 


VIA   DOLOROSA 


Norton  bent  close: 

"How  long  did  he  stay?" 

Minerva  fidgeted,  hesitated  again  and  finally  said: 

"Once  he  stay  about  er  hour " 

"And  the  other  time?" 

She  looked  in  vain  for  a  way  of  escape,  the  perspira 
tion  standing  in  beads  on  her  shining  black  face: 

"He  stay  all  night,  sah." 

A  moment  of  stillness  followed.  Norton's  eyes  closed, 
and  his  face  became  a  white  mask.  He  breathed  deeply 
and  then  spoke  quietly: 

"You — you  knew  they  were  married?" 

"Yassah !"  was  the  quick  reply.  "I  seed  'em  married. 
Miss  Helen  axed  me,  sah." 

Andy  lifted  his  hands  in  solemn  surprise  and  walled 
his  eyes  at  Minerva: 

"Well,  'fore  Gawd!" 

Another  moment  of  silence  and  Andy's  mouth  was  still 
open  with  wonder  when  a  call  like  the  crack  of  a  revolver 
suddenly  rang  through  the  room: 

"Andy !" 

The  negro  dropped  to  his  knees  and  lifted  his 
hands : 

"Don't  do  nuttin'  ter  me,  sah !  'Fore  de  Lawd,  major, 
I  'clare  I  nebber  knowed  it!  Dey  fool  me,  sah — I'd  a 
tole  you  sho!" 

Norton  frowned: 

"Shut  your  mouth  and  get  up." 

"Yassah!"  Andy  cried.  "Hit's  shet  an'  I'se 
up!" 

He  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  watched  his  mas 
ter. 

"You  and  Minerva  go  down  that  back  stairway  into 

429 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

the    basement,     fasten     the    windows     and    lock     the 
doors." 

Andy's  eyes  were  two  white  moons  in  the  shadows 
as  he  cried  through  chattering  teeth: 

"G — g — odder  mighty — what — what's  de  matter, 
major?" 

"Do  as  I  tell  you,  quick !" 

Andy  dodged  and  leaped  toward  the  door: 

"R — right  away,  sah!" 

"Pay  no  attention  to  anything  Mr.  Tom  may  say  to 
you " 

"Nasah,"  Andy  gasped.  "I  pay  no  'tension  ter 
nobody,  sah!" 

"When  you've  fastened  everything  below,  do  the  same 
on  this  floor  and  come  back  here — I  want  you." 

"Y-y-yas — sah !     R-r-r-right  a-way,  sah !" 

Andy  backed  out,  beckoning  frantically  to  Minerva. 
She  ignored  him  and  watched  Norton  as  he  turned  to 
ward  a  window  and  looked  vaguely  out.  As  Andy  con 
tinued  his  frantic  calls  she  slipped  to  the  doorway  and 
whispered : 

"G'long!  I  be  dar  in  er  minute.  You  po'  fool,  you 
can't  talk  nohow.  You're  skeered  er  de  major.  I'm 
gwine  do  my  duty  now,  I'm  gwine  ter  tell  him  sumfin' 
quick " 

Norton  wheeled  on  her  with  sudden  fury: 

"Do  as  I  tell  you  !   Do  as  I  tell  you  !" 

Minerva  dodged  at  each  explosion,  backing  away. 
She  paused  and  extended  her  hand  pleadingly: 

"Can't  I  put  in  des  one  little  word,  sah  ?" 

"Not  another  word!"  he  thundered,  advancing  on 
her— "Go !" 

"Yassah !" 

430 


VIA    DOLOEOSA 


"Go!  I  tell  you!" 

Dodging  again,  she  hurried  below  to  join  Andy.  Nor 
ton  turned  back  into  the  room  and  stood  staring  at 
something  that  gleamed  with  sinister  brightness  from 
the  top  of  the  little  writing  desk.  An  electric  lamp 
with  crimson  shade  seemed  to  focus  every  ray  of  light 
on  the  shining  steel  and  a  devil  in  the  shadows  pointed 
a  single  finger  and  laughed: 

"It's  ready — just  where  you  laid  it!" 

He  took  a  step  toward  the  desk,  stopped  and  gripped 
the  back  of  the  settee,  steadied  himself,  and  glared  at 
the  thing  with  fascination.  He  walked  unsteadily  to 
the  chair  in  front  of  the  desk  and  stared  again.  His 
hand  moved  to  grasp  the  revolver  and  hesitated.  And 
then,  the  last  thought  of  pity  strangled,  he  gripped 
the  handle,  lifted  it  with  quick  familiar  touch,  grasped 
the  top  clasp,  loosed  the  barrel,  threw  the  cylinder  open 
and  examined  the  shells,  dropped  them  into  his  hand 
and  saw  that  there  were  no  blanks.  One  by  one  he 
slowly  replaced  them,  snapped  the  cylinder  in  place 
and  put  the  weapon  in  his  pocket. 

He  glanced  about  the  room  furtively,  walked  to  each 
of  the  tall  French  windows,  closed  the  shutters  and 
carefully  drew  the  heavy  draperies.  He  turned  the 
switch  of  the  electric  lights,  extinguishing  all  in  the 
room  save  the  small  red  one  burning  on  the  desk.  He 
would  need  that  in  a  moment. 

He  walked  softly  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  called : 

"Tom !" 

Waiting  and  receiving  no  answer  he  called  again: 

"Tom!  Tom!" 

A  door  opened  above  and  the  boy  answered: 

"Well?" 

431 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"Just  a  word,  my  son,"  the  gentle  voice  called. 

"I've  nothing  to  say,  sir !  We're  packing  our  trunks 
to  leave  at  once." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  understand,"  the  father  answered  ten 
derly.  "You're  going,  of  course,  and  it  can't  be  helped 
— but  just  a  minute,  my  son;  we  must  say  good-by  in 
a  decent  way,  you  know — and — I've  something  to  show 
you  before  you  go" — the  voice  broke — "you — won't  try 
to  leave  without  seeing  me?" 

There  was  a  short  silence  and  the  answer  came  in 
friendly  tones : 

"I'll  see  you.     I'll  be  down  in  a  few  minutes." 

The   father  murmured: 

"Thank  God!" 

He  hurried  back  to  the  library,  unlocked  a  tiny 
drawer  in  the  desk,  drew  out  a  plain  envelope  from 
which  he  took  the  piece  of  paper  on  which  was  scrawled 
the  last  message  from  the  boy's  mother.  His  hand 
trembled  as  he  read  and  slowly  placed  it  in  a  small 
pigeon-hole. 

He  took  his  pen  and  began  to  write  rapidly  on  a  pad 
of  legal  cap  paper. 

While  he  was  still  busy  with  his  writing,  in  obedience 
to  his  orders,  Andy  and  Minerva  returned.  They 
stopped  at  the  doorway  and  peeped  in  cautiously  before 
entering.  Astonished  and  terrified  to  find  the  room  so 
dimly  lighted  they  held  a  whispered  conference  in  the 
hall: 

"Better  not  go  in  dar,  chile !"  Andy  warned. 

:£Ah,  come  on,  you  fool!"  Minerva  insisted.  "He 
ain't  gwine  ter  hurt  us !" 

"I  tell  ye  he's  wild — he's  gone  crazy,  sho's  yer  born ! 
I  kin  feel  dem  fingers  playin'  on  my  windpipe  now  I" 


VIA   DOLOROSA 


"What's  he  doin'  dar  at  dat  desk?"    Minerva  asked. 

"He's  writin'  good-by  ter  dis  world,  I'm  tellin'  ye, 
an'  hit's  time  me  an'  you  wuz  makin'  tracks !" 

"Ah,  come  on!"  the  woman  urged. 

Andy  hung  back  and  shook  his  head: 

"Nasah — I  done  bin  in  dar  an'  got  my  dose !" 

"You  slip  up  behin'  him  an'  see  what  he's  writin'," 
Minerva  suggested. 

"Na,  you  slip  up !" 

"You're  de  littlest  an'  makes  less  fuss,"  she  argued. 

"Yes,  but  you'se  de  biggest  an'  you  las'  de  longest 
in  er  scrimmage " 

"Ah,  go  on !"  she  commanded,  getting  behind  Andy 
and  suddenly  pushing  him  into  the  room. 

He  rushed  back  into  her  arms,  but  she  pushed  him 
firmly  on : 

"G'long,  I  tell  ye,  fool,  an'  see  what  he's  doin'.  I 
back  ye  up." 

Andy  balked  and  she  pressed  him  another  step : 

"G'long !" 

He  motioned  her  to  come  closer,  whispering: 

"Ef  yer  gwine  ter  stan'  by  me,  for  de  Lawd's  sake 
stan'  by  me — don't  stan'  by  de  do' !" 

Seeing  that  retreat  was  cut  off  and  he  was  in  for  it, 
the  negro  picked  his  way  cautiously  on  tip-toe  until 
he  leaned  over  the  chair  and  tried  to  read  what  his 
master  was  writing. 

Norton  looked  up  suddenly: 

"Andy !" 

He  jumped  in  terror: 

"I — I — didn't  see  nuttin',  major!  Nasah!  I  nebber 
seed  a  thing,  sah!" 

Norton  calmly  lifted  his  head  and  looked  into  the 
433 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

black  face  that  had  been  his  companion  so  many  years : 

"I  want  you  to  see  it!" 

"Oh !"  Andy  cried  with  surprised  relief,  "you  wants 
me  to  see  hit" — he  glanced  at  Minerva  and  motioned  her 
to  come  nearer.  "Well,  dat's  different,  sah.  Yer  know 
I  wouldn't  er  tried  ter  steal  er  glimpse  of  it  ef  I'd 
knowed  ye  wuz  gwine  ter  show  it  ter  me.  I  allers  is  er 
gemman,  sah !" 

Norton  handed  him  the  paper: 

"I  taught  you  to  read  and  write,  Andy.  You  can  do 
me  a  little  service  to-night — read  that!" 

"Yassah — yassah,"  he  answered,  pompously,  adjust 
ing  his  coat  and  vest.  He  held  the  paper  up  before 
him,  struck  it  lightly  with  the  back  of  his  hand  and 
cleared  his  throat: 

"Me  an'  you  has  bin  writin'  fer  de  newspapers  now 
'bout  fifteen  years — yassah" — he  paused  and  hurriedly 
read  the  document.  "Dis  yo'  will,  sah?  An'  de  Lawd 
er  mussy,  'tain't  more'n  ten  lines.  An'  dey  hain't  nary 
one  er  dem  whereases  an'  haremditaments  aforesaids, 
like  de  lawyers  puts  in  dem  in  de  Cote  House — hit's  des 
plain  writin" — he  paused  again — "ye  gives  de  house, 
an'  ten  thousand  dollars  ter  Miss  Helen  an'  all  yer  got 
ter  de  Columnerzation  Society  ter  move  de  niggers  ter 
er  place  er  dey  own !" — he  paused  again  and  walled  his 
eyes  at  Minerva.  "What  gwine  come  er  Mr.  Tom?" 

Norton's  head  sank: 

"He'll  be  rich  without  this !  Sign  your  name  here  as 
a  witness,"  he  said  shortly,  picking  up  the  pen. 

Andy  took  the  pen,  rolled  up  his  sleeve  carefully,  bent 
over  the  desk,  paused  and  scratched  his  head : 

"Don't  yer  think,  major,  dat's  er  terrible  pile  er 
money  ter  fling  loose  'mongst  er  lot  er  niggers?" 

434 


VIA   DOLOROSA 


Norton's  eyes  were  dreaming  again  and  Andy  went 
on  insinuatingly:  "Now,  wouldn't  hit  be  better,  sah, 
des  ter  pick  out  one  good  reliable  nigger  dat  yer  knows 
pussonally — an'  move  him?" 

Norton  looked  up  impatiently: 

"Sign  it!" 

"Yassah !  Cose,  sah,  you  knows  bes',  sah,  but  'pears 
ter  me  lak  er  powerful  waste  er  good  money  des  flingin' 
it  broadcast!" 

Norton  lifted  his  finger  warningly  and  Andy  hastened 
to  sign  his  name  with  a  flourish  of  the  pen.  He  looked 
at  it  admiringly: 

"Dar  now!  Dey  sho  know  dat's  me!  I  practise  on 
dat  quereque  two  whole  mont's — " 

Norton  folded  the  will,  placed  it  in  an  envelope,  ad 
dressed  it  and  lifted  his  drawn  face: 

"Tell  the  Clerk  of  the  Court  that  I  executed  this  will 
to-night  and  placed  it  in  this  desk" — his  voice  became 
inaudible  a  moment  and  went  on — "Ask  him  to  call  for 
it  to-morrow  and  record  it  for  me." 

Minerva,  who  had  been  listening  and  watching  with 
the  keenest  interest,  pressed  forward  and  asked  in  a 
whisper : 

"Yassah,  but  whar's  you  gwine  ter  be?  You  sho 
ain't  gwine  ter  die  ter-night  ?" 

Norton  quietly  recovered  himself  and  replied  angrily : 

"Do  I  look  as  if  I  were  dying?" 

"Nasah! — But  ain't  dey  no  way  dat  I  kin  help  ye, 
major?  De  young  folks  is  gwine  ter  leave,  sah " 

"They  are  not  going  until  I'm  ready !"  was  the  grim 
answer. 

"Nasah,  but  dey's  gwine,"  the  black  woman  replied 
tenderly.  "Ye  can't  stop  'em  long.  Lemme  plead  fur 

435 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

'em,  sah!  You  wuz  young  an'  wild  once,  major" — the 
silvery  gray  head  sank  low  and  the  white  lips  quivered 
— "you  take  all  yer  money  frum  Mister  Tom — what  he 
care  fer  dat  now  wid  love  singin'  in  his  heart?  Young 
folks  is  young  folks " 

Norton  lifted  his  head  and  stared  as  in  a  dream. 

"Won't  ye  hear  me,  sah?  Can't  I  go  upstairs  an' 
speak  de  good  word  ter  Mister  Tom  now  an'  tell  him 
hit's  all  right?" 

A  sudden  idea  flashed  into  Norton's  mind. 

The  ruse  would  be  the  surest  and  quickest  way  to 
get  Tom  into  the  room  alone. 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  answered,  glancing  at  her.  "You  can 
say  that  to  him  now " 

Minerva  laughed: 

"I  kin  go  right  up  dar  to  his  room  now  an'  tell  'im 
dat  you're  er  waitin'  here  wid  yer  arms  open  an'  yer 
heart  full  er  love  an'  f ergiveness  ?" 

"Yes,  go  at  once" — he  paused — "and  keep  Miss 
Helen  there  a  few  minutes.  I  want  to  see  him  first — 
you  understand " 

"Yassah !  yassah !"  Minerva  cried,  hastening  to  the 
door  followed  by  Andy.  "I  understands,  I  understands" 
— she  turned  on  Andy.  "Ye  hear  dat,  you  fool  nigger?  , 
Ain't  I  done  tole  you  dat  hit  would  all  come  out  right 
ef  I  could  des  say  de  good  word?  Gloree !  We  gwine 
ter  hab  dat  weddin'  all  over  agin!  You  des  wait  till 
yer  seen  dat  cake  I  gwine  ter  bake " 

With  a  quick  turn  she  was  about  to  pass  through 
the  door  when  Andy  caught  her  sleeve  : 

"Miss  Minerva!" 

"Yas,  honey !" 

"Miss  Minerva,"  he  repeated,  nervously  glancing  at 

436 


VIA   DOLOROSA 


Norton,  "fer  Gawd's  sake  don't  you  leave  me  now! 
You'se  de  only  restful  pusson  in  dis  house !' 

With  a  triumphant  laugh  Minerva  whispered: 

"I'll  be  right  back  in  a  minute,  honey !" 

Norton  had  watched  with  apparent  carelessness  until 
Minerva  had  gone.  He  sprang  quickly  to  his  feet, 
crossed  the  room  and  spoke  in  an  excited  whisper : 

"Andy!" 

"Yassah!" 

"Go  down  to  that  front  gate  and  stay  there.  Turn 
back  anybody  who  tries  to  come  in.  Don't  you  allow 
a  soul  to  enter  the  lawn." 

"I'll  do  de  best  I  kin,  sah,"  he  replied  hastening  to 
ward  the  door. 

Norton  took  an  angry  step  toward  him: 

"You  do  exactly  as  I  tell  you,  sir!" 

Andy  jumped  and  replied  quickly: 

"Yassah,  but  ef  dem  serenaders  come  back  here  you 
know  dey  ain't  gwine  pay  no  'tensun  ter  no  nigger 
talkin'  to  'em — dat's  what  dey  er  celebratin' 
erbout " 

Norton  frowned  and  was  silent  a  moment: 

"Say  that  I  ask  them  not  to  come  in." 

"I'll  tell  'em,  sah,  but  I  spec  I'll  hatter  climb  er  tree 
'fore  I  explains  hit  to  'em — but  I  tell  'em,  sah — yas- 
sah." 

As  Andy  slowly  backed  out,  Norton  said  sternly : 

"I'll  call  you  when  I  want  you.     Stay  until  I  do !" 

"Yassah,"  Andy  breathed  softly  as  he  disappeared 
trembling  and  wondering. 


437 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE  DREGS  IN  THE  CUP 


NORTON  walked  quickly  to  the  window^  drew'  back' 
the  draperies,  opened  the  casement  and  looked  out  to 


see  if  Andy  were  eavesdropping.     He  watched  the 
figure  cross  the  lawn,  glancing  back  at  the  house.    The; 
.full  moon,  at  its  zenith,  was  shining  in  a  quiet  glory,! 
^uncanny  in  its  dazzling  brilliance. 

He  stood  drinking  in  for  the  last  time  the  perfumed 
sweetness  and  languor  of  the  Southern  night.  His 
senses  seemed  supernaturally  acute.  He  could  dis 
tinctly  note  the  odors  of  the  different  flowers  that  were 
in  bloom  on  the  lawn.  A  gentle  breeze  was  blowing 
from  the  path  across  the  old  rose  garden.  The  faint, 
sweet  odor  of  the  little  white  carnations  his  mother  had 
planted  along  the  walks  stole  over  his  aching  soul  and 
he  was  a  child  again  watching  her  delicate  hands 
plant  them,  while  grumbling  slaves  protested  at  the 
soiling  of  her  fingers.  She  was  looking  up  with  a  smile 
saying: 

"I  love  to  plant  them.  I  feel  that  they  are  my  chil 
dren  then,  and  I'm  making  the  world  sweet  and  beautiful 
through  them!" 

Had  he  made  the  world  sweeter  and  more  beautiful  ?  t 

He  asked  himself  the  question  sternly. 

"God  knows  I've  tried  for  twenty  years  —  and  it  has 
come  to  this  !" 

438 


THE  DREGS  IN  THE   CUP 

The  breeze  softened,  the  odor  of  the  pinks  grew] 
fainter  and  the  strange  penetrating  smell  of  the  hedge 
of  tuberoses  swept  in  from  the  other  direction  with 
the  chill  of  Death  in  its  breath. 

His  heart  rose  in  rebellion.  It  was  too  horrible,  sucK 
an  end  of  life !  He  was  scarcely  forty-nine  years  old. 
Never  had  the  blood  pulsed  through  his  veins  with 
stronger  throb  and  never  had  his  vision  of  life  seemed 
clearer  and  stronger  than  to-day  when  he  had  faced 
those  thousands  of  cheering  men  and  hinted  for  the 
first  time  his  greater  plans  for  uplifting  the  Nation's 
life. 

The  sense  of  utter  loneliness  overwhelmed  his  soul. 
The  nearest  being  in  the  universe  whose  presence  he 
could  feel  was  the  dead  wife  and  mother. 

His  eye  rested  on  the  portrait  tenderly: 

"We're  coming,  dearest,  to-night!" 

For  the  first  time  his  spirit  faced  the  mystery  of 
eternity  at  close  range.  He  had  long  speculated  in 
theories  of  immortality  and  brooded  over  the  problem 
of  the  world  that  lies  but  a  moment  beyond  the  senses. 

He  had  clasped  hands  with  Death  now  and  stood  face 
to  face,  calm  and  unafraid.  His  mind  quickened  with 
the  thought  of  the  strange  world  into  which  he  would 
be  ushered  within  an  hour.  Would  he  know  and  under 
stand?  Or  would  the  waves  of  oblivion  roll  over  the 
prostrate  body  without  a  sign?  It  couldn't  be!  The 
hunger  of  immortality  was  too  keen  for  doubt.  He 
would  see  and  know !  The  cry  rose  triumphant  within. 
He  refused  to  perish  with  the  moth  and  worm.  The 
baser  parts  of  his  being  might  die — the  nobler  must 
live.  There  could  be  no  other  meaning  to  this  sub 
limely  cruel  and  mad  decision  to  kill  the  body  rather 

439 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

than  see  it  dishonored.  His  eye  caught  the  twinkle  of 
a  star  through  the  branches  of  a  tree-top.  His  feet 
would  find  the  pathway  among  those  shining  worlds! 
There  could  be  no  other  meaning  to  the  big  thing  that 
throbbed  and  ached  within  and  refused  to  be  content 
to  whelp  and  stable  here  as  a  beast  of  the  field.  Pride, 
Honor,  Aspiration,  Prayer,  meant  this  or  nothing! 

"I've  made  blunders  here,"  he  cried,  "but  I'm  search 
ing  for  the  light  and  I'll  find  the  face  of  God !" 

The  distant  shouts  of  cheering  hosts  still  celebrating 
in  the  Square  brought  his  mind  to  earth  with  a  sicken 
ing  shock.  He  closed  the  windows,  and  drew  the  cur 
tains.  His  hands  clutched  the  velvet  hangings  in  a 
moment  of  physical  weakness  and  he  steadied  himself 
before  turning  to  call  Tom. 

Recovering  his  composure  in  a  measure,  his  hand 
touched  the  revolver  in  his  pocket,  the  tall  figure  in 
stinctively  straightened  and  he  walked  rapidly  toward 
the  hall.  He  had  barely  passed  the  centre  of  the  room 
when  the  boy's  voice  distinctly  echoed  from  the  head 
of  the  stairs: 

"I'll  be  back  in  a  minute,  dear !" 

He  heard  the  door  of  Helen's  room  close  softly  and 
the  firm  step  descend  the  stairs.  The  library  door 
opened  and  closed  quickly,  and  Tom  stood  before  him, 
his  proud  young  head  lifted  and  his  shoulders  squared. 
The  dignity  and  reserve  of  conscious  manhood  shone 
in  every  line  of  his  stalwart  body  and  spoke  in  every 
movement  of  face  and  form. 

"Well,  sir,"  he  said  quietly.  "It's  done  now  and 
it  can't  be  helped,  you  know." 

Norton  was  stunned  by  the  sudden  appearance  of 
the  dear  familiar  form.  His  eyes  were  dim  with  unshed 

440 


THE   DREGS   IN   THE   CUP 

tears.  It  was  too  hideous,  this  awful  thing  he  had  to 
do!  He  stared  at  him  piteously  and  with  an  effort 
walked  to  his  side,  speaking  in  faltering  tones  that 
choked  between  the  words: 

"Yes,  it's  done  now — and  it  can't  be  helped" — he 
strangled  and  couldn't  go  on^-"I — I — have  realized 
that,  my  son — but  I — I  have  an  old  letter  from  your 
mother — that  I  wanted  to  show  you  before  you  go — 
you'll  find  it  on  the  desk  there." 

He  pointed  to  the  desk  on  which  burned  the  only 
light  in  the  room. 

The  boy  hesitated,  pained  by  the  signs  of  deep  an 
guish  in  his  father's  face,  turned  and  rapidly  crossed 
the  room. 

The  moment  his  back  was  turned,  Norton  swiftly  and 
silently  locked  the  door,  and  with  studied  carelessness 
followed. 

The  boy  began  to  search  for  the  letter: 

"I  don't  see  it,  sir." 

The  father,  watching  him  with  feverish  eyes,  started 
at  his  voice,  raised  his  hand  to  his  forehead  and  walked 
quickly  to  his  side: 

"Yes,  I— I— forgot— I  put  it  away!" 

He  dropped  limply  into  the  chair  before  the  desk, ' 
fumbled  among  the  papers  and  drew  the  letter  from 
the  pigeon-hole  in  which  he  had  placed  it. 

He  held  it  in  his  hand,  shaking  now  like  a  leaf,  and 
read  again  the  scrawl  that  he  had  blurred  with  tears 
and  kisses.  He  placed  his  hand  on  the  top  of  the  desk, 
rose  with  difficulty  and  looked  for  Tom.  The  boy  had 
moved  quietly  toward  the  table.  The  act  was  painfully 
significant  of  their  new  relations.  The  sense  of  aliena 
tion  cut  the  broken  man  to  the  quick.  He  could  scarcely 

441 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

see  as  he  felt  his  way  to  the  boy's  side  and  extended  the 
open  sheet  of  paper  without  a  word. 

Tom  took  the  letter,  turned  his  back  on  his  father 
and  read  it  in  silence. 

"How  queer  her  handwriting!"  he  said  at  length. 

Norton  spoke  in  strained  muffled  tones: 

"Yes — she — she  was  dying  when  she  scrawled  that. 
The  mists  of  the  other  world  were  gathering  about  her. 
I  don't  think  she  could  see  the  paper" — the  voice 
broke,  he  fought  for  self-control  and  then  went  on — 
"but  every  tiny  slip  of  her  pencil,  each  little  weak  hesi 
tating  mark  etched  itself  in  fire  on  my  heart" — the 
Toice  stopped  and  then  went  on — "you  can  read  them?" 

"Yes." 

The  father's  long  trembling  finger  traced  slowly  each 
word: 

"  'Remember  that  I  love  you  and  have  forgiven '  " 

"Forgiven  what?"  Tom  interrupted. 

Norton  turned  deadly  pale,  recovered  himself  and 
began  in  a  low  voice : 

"You  see,  boy,  I  grew  up  under  the  old  regime.  Like 
a  lot  of  other  fellows  with  whom  I  ran,  I  drank,  gambled 
and  played  the  devil — you  know  what  that  meant  in 
those  days " 

"No,  I  don't,"  the  boy  interrupted.     "That's  just 
what  I  don't  know.    I  belong  to  a  new  generation.  And 
you've  made  a  sort  of  exception  of  me  even  among  the 
men  of  to-day.     You  taught  me  to  keep  away  from 
women.     I  learned  the  lesson.     I  formed  clean  habits,  ^ 
and  so  I  don't  know  just  what  you  mean  by  that.   TellJ 
me  plainly." 

"It's  hard  to  say  it  to  you,  my  boy !"  the  older  man 
faltered. 

442 


THE   DREGS  IN   THE   CUP 

"I  want  to  know  it." 

"I — I  mean  that  twenty  years  ago  it  was  more 
mon  than  now  for  youngsters  to  get  mixed  up  with] 
girls  of  negroid  blood " 

The  boy  shrank  back: 

"You!— great  God!" 

"Yes,  she  came  into  my  life  at  last — a  sensuous  young 
animal  with  wide,  bold  eyes  that  knew  everything 
and  was  not  afraid.  That  sentence  means  the  shame 
from  which  I've  guarded  you  with  such  infinite 
care " 

He  paused  and  pointed  again  to  the  letter,  tracing 
its  words: 

"  'Rear  our  boy  free  from  the  curse !' — you — you — 
see  why  I  have  been  so  desperately  in  earnest?" — Nor 
ton  bent  close  with  pleading  eagerness:  "And  that 
next  sentence,  there,  you  can  read  it?  'I  had  rather  a. 
thousand  times  that  he  should  die  than  this — My  brood 
ing  spirit  will  watch  and  guard' — he  paused  and  re 
peated — "  'that  he  should  die' — you — you — see 
that?" 

The  boy  looked  at  his  father's  trembling  hand  and 
into  his  glittering  eyes  with  a  start: 

"Yes,  yes,  but,  of  course,  that  was  only  a  moment's 
(despair — no  mother  could  mean  such  a  thing." 

Norton's  eyes  fell,  he  moved  uneasily,  tried  to  speak 
again  and  was  silent.  When  he  began  his  words  were 
scarcely  audible: 

"LWe  must  part  now  in  tenderness,  my  boy,  as  father 
and  son — we — we — must  do  that  you  know.  You — you 
forgive  me  for  striking  you  to-night?" 

Tom  turned  away,  struggled  and  finally  answered: 

"No." 

443 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

The  father  followed  eagerly : 

"Tell  me  that  it's  all  right!" 

The  boy's  hand  nervously  fumbled  at  the  cloth  on  the 
table: 

"I — I — am  glad  I  didn't  do  something  worse !" 

"Say  that  you  forgive  me!    Why  is  it  so  hard?" 

Tom  turned  his  back: 

"I  don't  know,  Dad,  I  try,  but — I — just  can't!" 

The  father's  hand  touched  the  boy's  arm  timidly: 

"You  can  never  understand,  my  son,  how  my  whole 
life  has  been  bound  up  in  you!  For  years  I've  lived, 
worked,  and  dreamed  and  planned  for  you  alone.  In 
your  young  manhood  I've  seen  all  I  once  hoped  to  be 
and  have  never  been.  In  your  love  I've  found  the 
healing  of  a  broken  heart.  Many  a  night  I've  gone 
out  there  alone  in  that  old  cemetery,  knelt  be 
side  your  mother's  grave  and  prayed  her  spirit  to 
guide  me  that  I  might  at  least  lead  your  little  feet 
aright " 

The  boy  moved  slightly  and  the  father's  hand  slipped 
limply  from  his,  he  staggered  back  with  a  cry  of  de 
spair,  and  fell  prostrate  on  the  lounge : 

"I  can  endure  anything  on  this  earth  but  your  hate, 
my  boy!  I  can't  endure  that — I  can't — even  for  a 
moment !" 

His  form  shook  with  incontrollable  grief  as  he  lay 
with  his  face  buried  in  his  outstretched  arms. 

The  boy  struggled  with  conflicting  pride  and  love, 
looked  at  the  scrawled,  tear-stained  letter  he  still 
held  in  his  hand  and  then  at  the  bowed  figure, 
hesitated  a  moment,  and  rushed  to  his  father's  side, 
knelt  and  slipped  his  arm  around  the  trembling  fig 
ure: 

444 


THE  DREGS  IN  THE   CUP 

"It's  all  right,  Dad!  I'll  not  remember — a  single 
tear  from  your  eyes  blots  it  all  out !" 

The  father's  hand  felt  blindly  for  the  boy's  and 
grasped  it  desperately: 

"You  won't  remember  a  single  harsh  word  that  I've 
said?" 

"No — no — it's  all  right,"  was  the  soothing  answer, 
as  he  returned  the  pressure. 

Norton  looked  at  him  long  and  tenderly : 

"How  you  remind  me  of  her  to-night!  The  deep 
blue  of  your  eyes,  the  trembling  of  your  lips  when 
moved,  your  little  tricks  of  speech,  the  tear  that 
quivers  on  your  lash  and  never  falls  and  the  soul 
that's  mirrored  there" — he  paused  and  stroked  the  boy's 
head — "and  her  hair,  the  beaten  gold  of  honey 
comb!" 

His  head  sank  and  he  was  silent. 

The  boy  again  pressed  his  hand  tenderly  and  rose, 
drawing  his  father  to  his  feet : 

"I'm  sorry  to  have  hurt  you,  Dad.  I'm  sorry  that 
we  have  to  go — good-by !" 

He  turned  and  slowly  moved  toward  the  door.  Nor 
ton  slipped  his  right  hand  quickly  to  the  revolver,  hesi 
tated,  his  fingers  relaxed  and  the  deadly  thing  dropped 
back  into  his  pocket  as  he  sank  to  his  seat  with  a 
groan : 

"Wait!  Wait,  Tom!" 

The  boy  stopped. 

"I — I've  got  to  tell  it  to  you  now!"  he  went  on 
hoarsely.  "I — I  tried  to  save  you  this  horror — but  I 
couldn't — the  way  was  too  hard  and  cruel." 

Tom  took  a  step  and  looked  up  in  surprise: 

"The  way— what  way?" 

445 


THE   SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"I  couldn't  do  it,"  the  father  cried.  "I  just  couldn't 
— and  so  I  have  to  tell  you." 

The  boy  spoke  with  sharp  eagerness : 

"Tell  me  what?" 

"Now  that  I  know  you  are  married  in  all  that  word 
means  and  I  have  failed  to  save  you  from  it — I  must 
give  you  the  proofs  that  you  demand.  I  must  prove 
to  you  that  Helen  is  a  negress " 

A  sudden  terror  crept  into  the  young  eyes : 

"You — you  have  the  proofs?" 

"Yes !"  the  father  nodded,  placing  his  hand  on  his 
throat  and  fighting  for  breath.  He  took  a  step  toward 
the  boy,  and  whispered: 

"Cleo — is — her  mother  !" 

Tom  flinched  as  if  struck  a  blow.  The  red  blood 
rushed  to  his  head  and  he  blanched  with  a  death-like 
pallor : 

"And  you  have  been  afraid  of  Cleo?" 

"Yes." 

"Why?" 

The  father's  head  was  slowly  lowered  and  his  hands 
moved  in  the  slightest  gesture  of  dumb  confession. 

A  half-articulate,  maniac  cry  and  the  boy  grasped 
him  with  trembling  hands,  screaming  in  his  face : 

"God  in  Heaven,  let  me  keep  my  reason  for  just  a 
moment ! — So — you — are — Helen's " 

The  bowed  head  sank  lower. 

"Father !" 

Tom  reeled,  and  fell  into  a  chair  with  a  groan: 

"Lord  have  mercy  on  my  lost  soul!" 

Norton  solemnly  lifted  his  eyes : 

"God's  full  vengeance  has  fallen  at, last!     You  have 

married  your  own " 

446 


THE   DREGS   IN   THE   CUP 

The  boy  sprang  to  his  feet  covering  his  face: 

"Don't !  Don't !  Helen  doesn't  know?" 

"No." 

"She  mustn't!"  he  shivered,  looking  wildly  at  his 
father.  "But  why,  why — oh,  dear  God,  why  didn't  you 
kill  me  before  I  knew !" 

He  sank  back  into  the  chair,  his  arms  outstretched 
across  the  table,  his  face  hidden  in  voiceless  shame. 

The  father  slowly  approached  the  prostrate  figure, 
bent  low  and  tenderly  placed  his  cheek  against  the 
blonde  head,  soothing  it  with  trembling  touch.  For 
a  long  while  he  remained  thus,  with  no  sound  breaking 
the  stillness  save  the  sobs  that  came  from  the  limp 
form. 

And  then  Norton  said  brokenly : 

"I  tried,  my  boy,  to  end  it  for  us  both  without  your 
knowing  just  now  when  your  back  was  turned,  but  I 
couldn't.  It  seemed  too  cowardly  and  cruel!  I  just 
couldn't" — he  paused,  slowly  drew  the  revolver  from 
his  pocket  and  laid  it  on  the  table. 

The  boy  felt  the  dull  weight  of  the  steel  strike  the 
velvet  cover  and  knew  what  had  been  done  without  lift 
ing  his  head. 

"Now  you  know,"  the  father  added,  "what  we  both 
must  do." 

Tom  rose  staring  at  the  thing  on  the  dark  red  cloth, 
and  lifted  his  eyes  to  his  fathers : 

"Yes,  and  hurry!  Helen  may  come  at  any  mo 
ment." 

He  had  barely  spoken  when  the  knob  of  the  door 
turned.  A  quick  knock  was  heard  at  the  same  instant 
and  Helen's  voice  rang  through  the  hall: 

"Tom!  Tom!" 

447 


THE  SINS  OF   THE   FATHER 

Norton  grasped  the  pistol,  thrust  it  under  the  table- 
cover  and  pressed  the  boy  toward  the  door: 

"Quick!     Open  it,  at  once!" 

Tom  stared  in  a  stupor,  unable  to  move  until  his 
father  shook  his  arm: 

"Quick — open  it — let  her  in  a  moment — it's  best." 

He  opened  the  door  and  Helen  sprang  in  breathlessly. 


448 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE  MILLS  OF  GOD         . 

NORTON  had  dropped  into  a  seat  with  apparent  care 
lessness,  while  Tom  stood  immovable,  his  face  a  mask. 

The  girl  looked  quickly  from  one  to  the  other,  her 
breath  coming  in  quick  gasps. 

She  turned  to  Tom: 

"Why  did  you  lock  the  door — what  does  it  mean?5* 

Norton  hastened  to  answer,  his  tones  reassuringly 
simple : 

"Why,  only  that  we  wished  to  be  alone  for  a  few 
moments " 

"Yes,  we  understand  each  other  now,"  Tom  added. 

'Helen's  eyes  flashed  cautiously  from  one  to  the  other : 

"I  heard  a  strange  noise" — she  turned  to  the  boy — 
"and,  oh,  Tom,  darling,  I  was  so  frightened !  I  thought 
I  heard  a  struggle  and  then  everything  became  so  still. 
I  was  wild — I  couldn't  wait  any  longer !" 

"Why,  it  was  really  nothing,"  Tom  answered  her 
bravely  smiling.  "We — we  did  have  a  little  scene,  and 
lost  our  temper  for  a  moment,  but  you  can  see  for 
yourself  it's  all  right  now.  We've  thrashed  the  whole 
thing  out  and  have  come  to  a  perfect  under 
standing  !" 

His  words  were  convincing  but  not  his  manner.  He 
hadn't  dared  to  look  her  in  the  face.  His  eyes  were 
on  the  rug  and  his  foot  moved  nervously. 

449 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

"You  are  not  deceiving  me?"  she  asked  trembling. 

The  boy  appealed  to  his  father : 

"Haven't  we  come  to  a  perfect  understanding,  Dad?" 

Norton  rose: 

"Perfect,  my  son.     It's  all  right,  now,  Helen." 

"Just  wait  for  me  five  minutes,  dear,"  Tom  pleaded. 

"Can't  I  hear  what  you  have  to  say?" 

"We  prefer  to  be  alone,"  the  father  said  gravely. 

Again  her  eyes  flashed  from  one  to  the  other  and 
rested  on  Tom.  She  rushed  to  him  and  laid  her  hand 
appealingly  on  his  arm: 

"Oh,  Tom,  dear,  am  I  not  your  wife?"  the  boy's 
head  drooped — "must  you  have  a  secret  from  me 
now?" 

"Just  a  few  minutes,"  Norton  pleaded,  "that's  a  good 
girl !" 

"Only  a  few  minutes,  Helen,"  Tom  urged. 

"Please  let  me  stay.  Why  were  you  both  so  pale 
when  I  came  in?" 

Father  and  son  glanced  at  each  other  over  her  head. 
Norton  hesitated  and  said: 

"You  see  we  are  perfectly  calm  now.  All  bitterness 
is  gone  from  our  hearts.  We  are  father  and  son 
again." 

"Why  do  you  look  so  queerly  at  me?  Why  do  you 
look  so  strangely  at  each  other?" 

"It's  only  your  imagination,  dear,"  Tom  said. 

"No,  there's  something  wrong,"  Helen  declared  des 
perately.  "I  feel  it  in  the  air  of  this  room — in  the 
strange  silence  between  you.  For  God's  sake  tell  me 
what  it  means!  Surely,  I  have  the  right  to  know" — 
she  turned  suddenly  to  Norton — "You  don't  hate  me 
now,  do  you,  major?" 

450 


THE   MILLS   OF   GOD 


The  somber  brown  eyes  rested  on  her  in  a  moment  of 
intense  silence  and  he  slowly  said: 

"I  have  never  hated  you,  my  child !" 

"Then  what  is  it?"  she  cried  in  anguish,  turning 
again  to  Tom.  "Tell  me  what  I  can  do  to  help  you! 
I'll  obey  you,  dearest,  even  if  it's  to  lay  my  life  down. 
Don't  send  me  away.  Don't  keep  this  secret  from  me. 
I  feel  its  chill  in  my  heart.  My  place  is  by  your  side — 
tell  me  how  I  can  help  you !" 

Tom  looked  at  her  intently: 

"You  say  that  you  will  obey  me?" 

"Yes — you  are  my  lord  and  master!" 

He  seized  her  hand  and  led  her  to  the  door 

"Then  wait  for  me  just  five  minutes." 

She  lifted  her  head  pleadingly: 

"You  will  let  me  come  to  you  then?" 

"Yes." 

"You  won't  lock  the  door  again?" 

"Not  now." 

While  Tom  stood  immovable,  with  a  lingering  look 
of  tenderness  she  turned  and  passed  quickly  from  the 
room. 

He  closed  the  door  softly,  steadied  himself  before 
loosing  the  knob  and  turned  to  his  father  in  a  burst 
of  sudden  rebellion: 

"Oh,  Dad!  It  can't  be  true!  It  can't  be  true! 
I  can't  believe  it.  Did  you  look  at  her  closely 
again  ?" 

Norton  drew  himself  wearily  to  his  feet  and  spoke 
with  despairing  certainty: 

"Yes,  yes,  as  I've  looked  at  her  a  hundred  times  with 
growing  wonder." 

"She's  not  like  you " 

451 


THE  SINS  OF  THE   FATHER 

"No  more  than  you,  my  boy,  and  yet  you're  bone  of 
my  bone  and  flesh  of  my  flesh — it  can't  be  helped " 

He  paused  and  pointed  to  the  revolver: 

"Give  it  to  me !" 

The  boy  started  to  lift  the  cloth  and  the  father 
caught  his  arm: 

"But  first — before  you  do,"  he  faltered.  "I  want 
you  to  tell  me  now  with  your  own  lips  that  you  forgive 
me  for  what  I  must  do — and  then  I  think,  perhaps,  I 
can — say  it!" 

Their  eyes  met  in  a  long,  tender,  searching  gaze : 

"I  forgive  you,"  he  softly  murmured. 

"Now  give  it  to  me !"  the  father  firmly  said,  stepping 
back  and  lifting  his  form  erect. 

The  boy  felt  for  the  table,  fumbled  at  the  cloth, 
caught  the  weapon  and  slowly  lifted  it  toward  his  fa 
ther's  extended  hand.  He  opened  his  eyes,  caught  the 
expression  of  agony  in  the  drawn  face,  the  fingers  re 
laxed  and  the  pistol  fell  to  the  floor.  He  threw  him 
self  blindly  on  his  father,  his  arms  about  his  neck : 

"Oh,  Dad,  it's  too  hard!  Wait — wait — just  a  mo 
ment  !" 

The  father  held  him  close  for  a  long  while.  His  voice 
was  very  low  when  he  spoke  at  last: 

"There's  no  appeal,  my  boy !  The  sin  of  your  father 
is  full  grown  and  has  brought  forth  death.  Yet  I  was 
not  all  to  blame.  We  are  caught  to-night  in  the  grip 
of  the  sins  of  centuries.  I  tried  to  give  my  life  to  the 
people  to  save  the  children  of  the  future.  My  shame 
showed  me  the  way  as  few  men  could  have  seen  it,  and 
I  have  set  in  motion  forces  that  can  never  be  stopped. 
Others  will  complete  the  work  that  I  have  begun.  But 

our  time  has  come " 

452 


THE  MILLS  OF  GOD 


"Yes,  yes,  I  understand !" 

The  father's  arms  pressed  the  son  in  a  last  long  em 
brace  : 

"What  an  end  to  all  my  hopes !  Oh,  my  boy,  heart 
of  my  heart !" 

Tom's  hand  slowly  slipped  down  and  caught  his 
father's : 

"Good-by,  Dad!" 

Norton  held  the  clasp  with  lingering  tenderness  as 
the  boy  slowly  drew  away,  measured  four  steps  and 
calmly  folded  his  arms,  his  head  erect,  his  broad  young 
shoulders  squared  and  thrown  far  back. 

Cleo,  who  had  crept  into  the  hall,  stood  behind  the 
curtains  of  the  inner  door  watching  the  scene  with 
blanched  face. 

The  father  walked  quickly  to  the  revolver,  picked  it 
up,  turned  and  lifted  it  above  his  head. 

jWith  a  smothered  cry  Cleo  sprang  into  the  room — * 
but  she  was  too  late.  Norton  had  quickly  dropped  the 
pistol  to  the  level  of  the  eye  and  fired. 

A  tiny  red  spot  flamed  on  the  white  skin  of  the  boy's 
forehead,  the  straight  figure  swayed,  and  pitched  for 
ward  face  down  on  the  rug. 

The  woman  staggered  back,  cowering  in  the  shadows. 

The  father  knelt  beside  the  quivering  form,  clasped 
his  left  hand  in  Tom's,  placed  the  revolver  to  his  temple 
and  fired.  The  silver-gray  head  sank  slowly  against 
the  breast  of  the  boy  as  a  piercing  scream  from  Helen's 
lips  rang  through  the  silent  hall. 


453 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

SIN  FULL,  GROWN 

THE  sensitive  soul  of  the  girl  had  seen  the  tragedy 
before  she  rushed  into  the  library.  At  the  first  shot 
she  sprang  to  her  feet,  her  heart  in  her  throat.  The 
report  had  sounded  queerly  through  the  closed  doors 
and  she  was  not  sure.  She  had  entered  the  hall,  holding 
her  breath,  when  the  second  shot  rang  out  its  message 
of  death. 

She  was  not  the  woman  who  faints  in  an  emergency. 
She  paused  just  a  moment  in  the  door,  saw  the  ghastly 
heap  on  the  floor  and  rushed  to  the  spot. 

She  tore  Tom's  collar  open  and  placed  her  ear  over 
his  heart : 

"O  God !     He's  alive— he's  alive !" 

She  turned  and  saw  Cleo  leaning  against  the  table 
with  blanched  face  and  chattering  teeth. 

"Call  Andy  and  Aunt  Minerva — and  go  for  the  doc 
tor ! — his  heart's  beating — quick — the  doctor — he's 
alive — we  may  save  him !" 

She  knelt  again  on  the  floor,  took  Tom's  head  in  her 
lap,  wiped  the  blood  from  the  clean,  white  forehead, 
pressed  her  lips  to  his  and  sobbed: 

"Come  back,  my  own — it's  I — Helen,  your  little  wife 
— I'm  calling  you — you  can't  die — you're  too  young 
and  life's  too  dear.  We've  only  begun  to  live,  my  sweet 
heart  !  You  shall  not  die !" 

454 


SIN  FULL  GROWN 


The  tears  were  raining  on  his  pale  face  and  her  cries 
had  become  little  wordless  prayers  when  Andy  and 
Minerva  entered  the  room. 

She  nodded  her  head  toward  Norton's  motionless 
body: 

"Lift  him  on  the  lounge!" 

They  moved  him  tenderly: 

"See  if  his  heart's  still  beating,"  she  commanded. 

Andy  reverently  lowered  his  dusky  face  against  the 
white  bosom  of  his  master.  When  he  lifted  it  the  tears 
had  blinded  his  eyes: 

"Nobum,"  he  said  slowly,  "he's  done  dead!" 

The  tick  of  the  little  French  clock  on  the  mantel  be 
neath  the  mother's  portrait  rang  with  painful  clear 
ness. 

Helen  raised  her  hand  to  Minerva: 

"Open  the  windows  and  let  the  smoke  out.  I'll  hold 
him  in  my  arms  until  the  doctor  comes." 

"Yassum " 

Minerva  drew  the  heavy  curtains  back  from  the  tall 
windows,  opened  the  casements  and  the  perfumed  air  of 
the  beautiful  Southern  night  swept  into  the  room. 

A  cannon  boomed  its  final  cry  of  victory  from  the 
Square  and  a  rocket,  bursting  above  the  tree-tops, 
flashed  a  ray  of  red  light  on  the  white  face  of  the  dead. 


455 


CHAPTER  XXXIT 

CONFESSION 

WHEN  Dr.  Williams  entered  the  room  Helen  was  still 
holding  Tom's  head  in  her  lap. 

He  had  stirred  once  with  a  low  groan. 

"The  major  is  dead,  but  Tom's  alive,  doctor!"  she 
cried  through  her  tears.  "He's  going  to  live,  too — I 
feel  it— I  know  it— tell  me  that  it's  so !" 

The  lips  trembled  pitifully  with  the  last  words. 

The  doctor  felt  the  pulse  and  was  silent. 

"It's  all  right?  He's  going  to  live— isn't  he?"  she 
asked  pathetically. 

"I  can't  tell  yet,  my  child,"  was  the  calm 
answer. 

He  examined  the  wound  and  ran  his  hand  over  the 
blonde  hair.  His  fingers  stopped  suddenly  and  he  felt 
the  head  carefully.  He  bent  low,  parted  the  hair  and 
found  a  damp  blood  mark  three  inches  above  the  line 
of  the  forehead. 

"See !"  he  cried,  "the  ball  came  out  here.  His  head 
was  thrown  far  back,  the  bullet  struck  the  inner  skull 
bone  at  an  angle  and  glanced." 

"What  does  it  mean?"  she  asked  breathlessly. 

The  doctor  smiled: 

"That  the  brain  is  untouched.  He  is  only  stunned 
and  in  a  swoon.  He'll  be  well  in  two  weeks." 

Helen  lifted  her  eyes  and  sobbed: 
456 


CONFESSION 


"OGod!" 

She  tried  to  bend  and  kiss  Tom's  lips,  her  body 
swayed  and  she  fell  backward  in  a  dead  faint. 

Andy  and  Minerva  carried  her  to  her  room,  left  Cleo 
to  minister  to  her  and  returned  to  help  the  doctor. 

He  examined  Norton's  body  to  make  sure  that  life 
was  extinct  and  placed  the  body  on  an  improvised  bed 
on  the  floor  until  he  should  regain  his  senses. 

In  half  an  hour  Tom  looked  into  the  doctor's  face: 

"Why,  it's  Doctor  Williams?" 

"Yes." 

"What— what's  happened?" 

"It's  only  a  scratch  for  you,  my  boy.  You'll  be  well 
in  a  few  days " 

"Well  in  a  few  days" — he  repeated  blankly.  "I  can't 
get  well!  I've  got  to  die" — his  head  dropped  and  he 
caught  his  breath. 

The  doctor  waited  for  him  to  recover  himself  to  ask 
the  question  that  was  on  his  lips.  He  had  gotten  as  yet 
no  explanation  of  the  tragedy  save  Cleo's  statement 
that  the  major  had  shot  Tom  and  killed  himself.  He 
had  guessed  that  the  ugly  secret  in  Norton's  life  was 
in  some  way  responsible. 

"Why  must  you  die,  my  boy  ?"  he  asked  kindly. 

Tom  opened  his  eyes  in  a  wild  stare: 

"Helen's  my  wife — we  married  secretly  without  my 
father  knowing  it.  He  has  just  told  me  that  Cleo  is 
her  mother  and  I  have  married  my  own " 

His  voice  broke  and  his  head  sank. 

The  doctor  seized  the  boy's  hand  and  spoke  eagerly : 

"It's  a  lie,  boy!  It's  a  lie!  Take  my  word  for 
it " 

Tom  shook  his  head. 

457 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

"I'll  stake  my  life  on  it  that  it's  a  lie"— the  old  man 
repeated — "and  I'll  prove  it — I'll  prove  it  from  Cleo's 
lips !" 

"You — you — can  do  it!"  the  boy  said  hopelessly, 
though  his  eyes  flashed  with  a  new  light. 

"Keep  still  until  I  return !"  the  doctor  cried,  "and 
I'll  bring  Cleo  with  me." 

He  placed  the  revolver  in  his  pocket  and  hastily  left 
the  room,  the  boy's  eyes  following  him  with  feverish 
excitement. 

He  called  Cleo  into  the  hall  and  closed  Helen's  door. 

The  old  man  seized  her  hand  with  a  cruel  grip : 

"Do  you  dare  tell  me  that  this  girl  is  your  daugh 
ter?" 

She  trembled  and  faltered : 

"Yes !" 

"You're  a  liar!"  he  hissed.  "You  may  have  fooled 
Norton  for  twenty  years,  but  you  can't  fool  me.  I've 
seen  too  much  of  this  sort  of  thing.  I'll  stake  my  im 
mortal  soul  on  it  that  no  girl  with  Helen's  pure  white 
skin  and  scarlet  cheeks,  clean-cut  features  and  deep  blue 
eyes  can  have  in  her  body  a  drop  of  negro  blood!" 

"She's  mine  all  the  same,  and  you  know  when  she 
was  born,"  the  woman  persisted. 

He  could  feel  her  body  trembling,  looked  at  her  curi 
ously  and  said: 

"Come  down  stairs  with  me  a  minute." 

Cleo  drew  back: 

"I  don't  want  to  go  in  that  room  again!" 

"You've  got  to  come !" 

He  seized  her  roughly  and  drew  her  down  the  stairs 
into  the  library. 

She  gripped  the  door,  panting  in  terror.     He  loosed 

458 


CONFESSION 


her  hands  and  pushed  her  inside  before  the  lounge  on 
which  the  body  of  Norton  lay,  the  cold  wide-open  eyes 
staring  straight  into  her  face. 

She  looked  a  moment  in  abject  horror,  shivered  and 
covered  her  eyes : 

"Oh,  my  God,  let  me  go !" 

The  doctor  tore  her  hands  from  her  face  and  con 
fronted  her.  His  snow-white  beard  and  hair,  his  tense 
figure  and  flaming  anger  seemed  to  the  trembling  woman 
the  image  of  an  avenging  fate  as  he  solemnly  cried : 

"Here,  in  the  presence  of  Death,  with  the  all-seeing 
eye  of  God  as  your  witness,  and  the  life  of  the  boy  you 
once  held  in  your  arms  hanging  on  your  words,  I  ask  if 
that  girl  is  your  daughter?" 

The  greenish  eyes  wavered,  but  the  answer  came  clear 
at  last : 

"No " 

"I  knew  it !"  the  doctor  cried.  "Now  the  whole 
truth !" 

The  color  mounted  Tom's  cheeks  as  he  listened. 

"My  own  baby  died,"  she  began  falteringly,  "I  Was 
wild  with  grief  and  hunted  for  another.  I  found  Helen 
in  Norfolk  at  the  house  of  an  old  woman  whom  I  knew, 
and  she  gave  her  to  me " 

"Or  you  stole  her — no  matter" — the  doctor  inter 
rupted— "Go  on." 

Helen  had  slipped  down  stairs,  crept  into  the  room 
unobserved  and  stood  listening. 

"Who  was  the  child's  mother?"  the  doctor  demanded. 

Cleo  was  gasping  for  breath: 

"The  daughter  of  an  old  fool  who  had  disowned  her 
because  she  ran  away  and  married  a  poor  white  boy — 
the  husband  died — the  father  never  forgave  her.  When 

459 


THE  SINS  OF  THE  FATHER 

the  baby  was  born  the  mother  died,  too,  and  I  got  the 
child  from  the  old  nurse — she's  pure  white — there's  not 
a  stain  of  any  kind  on  her  birth !" 

With  a  cry  of  joy  Helen  knelt  and  drew  Tom  into 
her  arms: 

"Oh,  darling,  did  you  hear  it — oh,  my  sweetheart,  did 
you  hear  it?" 

The  boy's  head  sank  on  her  breast  and  he  breathed 
softly: 

"Thank  God!" 


460 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

HEALING 

THE  years  brought  their  healing  to  wounded  hearts. 
Tom  Norton  refused  to  leave  his  old  home.  He  came 
of  a  breed  of  men  who  had  never  known  how  to  quit. 
He  faced  the  world  and  with  grim  determination  took 
up  the  work  for  the  Republic  which  his  father  had 
begun. 

With  tireless  voice  his  paper  pleads  for  the  purity  of 
the  race.  Its  circulation  steadily  increases  and  its  in 
fluence  deepens  and  widens. 

The  patter  of  a  baby's  feet  again  echoes  through 
the  wide  hall  behind  the  white  fluted  columns.  The 
young  father  and  mother  have  taught  his  little  hands 
to  place  flowers  on  the  two  green  mounds  beneath  the 
oak  in  the  cemetery.  He  is  not  old  enough  yet  to 
understand,  and  so  the  last  time  they  were  there  he 
opened  his  eyes  wide  at  his  mother's  tears  and  lisped : 

"Are  'oo  hurt,  mama?" 

"No,  my  dear,  I'm  happy  now." 

"Why  do  'oo  cry?" 

"For  a  great  man  I  knew  a  little  while,  loved  and 
lost,  dearest — your  grandfather  for  whom  we  named 
you." 

Little  Dan's  eyes  grew  very  serious  as  he  looked  again 
at  the  flower-strewn  graves  and  wondered  what  it  all 
meant. 

461 


THE  SINS   OF   THE   FATHER 

But  the  thing  which  marks  the  Norton  home  with 
peculiar  distinction  is  that  since  the  night  of  his  father's 
death,  Tom  has  never  allowed  a  negro  to  cross  the 
threshold  or  enter  its  gates. 


THE    END 


NOVELS   OF   SOUTHERN   LIFE 

By  THOMAS  DIXON,JR. 

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THE   LEOPARD'S   SPOTS:        A    Story    of    the    White    Man's 
Burden,  1865-1900.     With  illustrations  by  C.  D.  Williams. 

A  tale  of  the  South  about  the  dramatic  events  of  Destruction. 
Reconstruction  and  Upbuilding.  The  work  is  able  and  eloquent  and 
the  verifiable  events  of  history  are  followed  closely  in  the  develop 
ment  of  a  story  full  of  struggle. 

THE   CLANSMAN.    With  illustrations  by  Arthur  I.  Keller. 

While  not  connected  with  it  in  any  way,  this  is  a  companion  vol 
ume  to  the  author's  "epoch-making"  story  The  Leopard's  Spots.  It 
is  a  novel  with  a  great  deal  to  it,  and  which  very  properly  is  going  to 
interest  many  thousands  of  readers.  *  *  *  It  is,  first  of  all,  a  forceful, 
dramatic,  absorbing  love  story,  with  a  sequence  of  events  so  surprising 
that  one  is  prepared  for  the  fact  that  much  of  it  is  fouuded  on  actual 
happenings;  but  Mr.  Dixon  has,  as  before,  a  deeper  purpose — he  has 
aimed  to  show  that  the  original  formers  of  the  Ku  Klux  Klan  were 
modern  knights  errant  taking  the  only  means  at  hand  to  right 
intolerable  wrongs. 

THE    TRAITOR.    A  Story  of  the  Fall  of  the  Invisible  Empire. 
Illustrations  by  C.  D.  Williams. 

The  third  and  last  book  in  this  remarkable  trilogy  of  novels  relat 
ing  to  Southern  Reconstruction.  It  is  a  thrilling  story  of  love,  ad 
venture,  treason,  and  the  United  States  Secret  Service  dealing  with 
the  decline  and  fall  of  the  Ku  Klux  Klan. 

COMRADES.    Illustrations  by  C.  D.  Williams. 

A  novel  dealing  with  the  establishment  of  a  Socialistic  Colony 
upon  a  deserted  island  off  the  coast  of  California.  The  way  of  dis 
illusionment  is  the  course  over  which  Mr.  Dixon  conducts  the  reader. 

THE   ONE   WOMAN.    A  Story  of  Modern  Utopia. 

A  love  story  and  character  study  of  three  strong  men  and  two  fas 
cinating  women.  In  swift,  unified,  and  dramatic  action,  we  see  So 
cialism  a  deadly  torce,  in  the  hour  of  the  eclipse  of  Faith,  destroying 
the  home  life  and  weakening  the  fiber  of  Anglo  Saxon  manhood. 

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STORIES    OF    WESTERN    LIFE 

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RIDERS  OF  THE  PURPLE  SAGE,    By  Zane  Grey. 
Illustrated  by  Douglas  Duer. 

In  this  picturesque  romance  of  Utah  of  some  forty  years  ago,  we 
are  permitted  to  see  the  unscrupulous  methods  employed  by  the  in 
visible  hand  of  the  Mormon  Church  to  break  the  will  of  those  refus 
ing  to  conform  to  its  rule. 

FRIAR  TUCK,    By  Robert  Alexander  Wason. 
Illustrated  by  Stanley  L.  Wood. 

Happy  Hawkins  tells  us,  in  his  humorous  way,  how  Friar  Tuck 
lived  among  the  Cowboys,  how  he  adjusted  their  quarrels  and  love 
affairs  and  how  he  fought  with  them  and  for  them  when  occasion 
required. 

THE    SKY   PILOT,     By  Ralph    Connor. 
Illustrated  by  Louis  Rhead. 

There  is  no  novel,  dealing  with  the  rough  existence  of  cowboys, 
so  charming  in  the  telling,  abounding  as  it  does  with  the  freshest  and 
the  truest  pathos. 

THE  EMIGRANT  TRAIL,    By  Geraldine  Bonner. 
Colored  frontispiece  by  John  Rae. 

The  book  relates  the  adventures  of  a  party  on  its  overland  pil 
grimage,  and  the  birth  and  growth  of  the  absorbing  love  of  two  strong 
men  for  a  charming  heroine. 

THE  BOSS    OF  WIND  RIVER,    By  A.  M.  Chisholm. 
Illustrated  by  Frank  Tenney  Johnson. 

This  is  a  strong,  virile  novel  with  the  lumber  industry  for  its  cen 
tral  theme  and  a  love  story  full  of  interest  as  a  sort  of  subplot. 

A   PRAIRIE  COURTSHIP,    By  Harold  Bindloss. 

A  story  of  Canadian  prairies  in  which  the  hero  is  stirred,  through 
the  influence  of  his  love  for  a  woman,  to  settle  down  to  the  heroic 
business  of  pioneer  farming. 

JOYCE  OF  THE  NORTH  WOODS,    By  Harriet  T.  Comstock, 

Illustrated  by  John  Cassel. 

A  story  of  the  deep  woods  that  shows  the  power  of  love  at  work 
among  its  primitive  dwellers.  It  is  a  tensely  moving  study  of  the 
human  heart  and  its  aspirations  that  unfolds  itself  through  thrilling 
skuations  and  dramatic  developments. 

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JOHN   FOX,  JR'S. 

STORIES   OF  THE  KENTUCKY  MOUNTAINS 

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THE  TRAIL    OF   THE    LONESOME   PINE. 
Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

The  "lonesome  pine"  from  which  the 
story  takes  its  name  was  a  tall  tree  that 
stood  in  solitary  splendor  on  a  mountain 
top.  The  fame  of  the  pine  lured  a  young 
engineer  through  Kentucky  to  catch  the 
trail,  and  when  he  finally  climbed  to  its 
shelter  he  found  not  only  the  pine  but  the 
footprints  of  a  girl.  And  the  girl  proved 
to  be  lovely,  piquant,  and  the  trail  of 
these  girlish  foot-prints  led  the  young 
engineer  a  madder  chase  than  "the  trail 
of  the  lonesome  pine." 

SHEPHERD    OF    KINGDOM     COME 


THE     LITTLE 


Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

This  is  a  story  of  Kentucky,  in  a  settlement  known  as  "King- 
dom  Come."  It  is  a  life  rude,  semi-barbarous;  but  natural 
and  honest,  from  which  often  springs  the  flower  of  civilization. 

"  Chad."  the  "little  shepherd"  did  not  know  who  he  was  nor 
whence  he  came — he  had  just  wandered  from  door  to  door  since 
early  childhood,  seeking  shelter  with  kindly  mountaineers  who 
gladly  fathered  and  mothered  this  waif  about  whom  there  was 
such  a  mystery — a  charming  waif,  by  the  way,  who  could  play 
the  banjo  better  that  anyone  else  in  the  mountains. 

A  KNIGHT   OF  THE    CUMBERLAND. 
Illustrated    by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

The  scenes  are  laid  along  the  waters  of  the  Cumberland' 
the  lair  of  moonshiner  and  feudsman.  The  knigtu  is  a  moon 
shiner's  son,  and  the  heroine  a  beautiful  girl  perversely  chris 
tened  "The  Blight."  Two  impetuous  young  Southerners'  fall 
under  the  spell  of  "The  Blight's  "  charms  and  she  learns  what 
a  large  part  jealousy  and  pistols  have  in  the  love  making  of  the 
mountaineers. 

Included  in  this  volume  is  "  Hell  fer-Sartain"  and  other 
stories,  some  of  Mr.  Fox's  most  entertaining  Cumberland  valley 
narratives. 

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MYRTLE    REED'S   NOVELS 

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LAVENDER  AND  OLD  LACE. 

A  charming  story  of  a  quaint  corner  of 
New  England  where  bygone  romance  finds  a 
modern  parallel.  The  story  centers  round 
the  coming  of  love  to  the  young  people  on 
the  staff  of  a  newspaper — and  it  is  one  of  the 
prettiest,  sweetest  and  quaintest  of  old  fash 
ioned  love  stories,  *  *  *  a  rare  book,  ex 
quisite  in  spirit  and  conception,  full  of 
delicate  fancy,  of  tenderness,  of  delightful 
humor  and  spontaniety. 


A  SPINNER  IN  THE  SUN. 

Miss  Myrtle  Reed  may  always  be  depended  upon  to  write  a  story 
in  which  poetry,  charm,  tenderness  and  humor  are  combined  into  a 
clever  and  entertaining  book.  Her  characters  are  delightful  and  she 
always  displays  a  quaint  humor  of  expression  and  a  quiet  feeling  of 
pathos  which  give  a  touch  of  active  realism  to  all  her  writings.  In 
"A  Spinner  in  the  Sun"  she  tells  an  old-fashioned  love  story,  of  a 
veiled  lady  who  lives  in  solitude  and  whose  features  her  neighbors 
have  never  seen.  There  is  a  mystery  at  the  heart  of  the  book  that 
throws  over  it  the  glamour  of  romance. 

THE    MASTER'S    VIOLIN, 

A  love  story  in  a  musical  atmosphere.  A  picturesque,  old  Ger 
man  virtuoso  is  the  reverent  possessor  of  a  genuine  "Cremona."  He 
consents  to  take  for  his  pupil  a  handsome  youth  who  proves  to  have 
an  aptitude  for  technique,  but  not  the  soul  of  an  artist.  The  youth 
has  led  the  happy,  careless  life  of  a  modern,  well-to-do  young  Amer 
ican  and  he  cannot,  with  his  meagre  past,  express  the  love,  the  passion 
and  the  tragedies  of  life  and  all  its  happy  phases  as  can  the  master 
wno  has  lived  life  in  all  its  fulness.  But  a  girl  comes  into  his  life — a 
beautiful  bit  of  human  driftwood  that  his  aunt  had  taken  into  her 
heart  and  home,  and  through  his  passionate  love  for  her,  he  learns 
the  lessons  that  life  has  to  give — and  his  soul  awakes. 

Founded  on  a  fact  that  all  artists  realize. 

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LOUIS  TRACY'S 

CAPTIVATING  AND  EXHILARATING  ROMANCES 

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CYNTHIA'S     CHAUFFEUR.  Illustrated  by  Howard  Chandlei 
Christy. 

A  pretty  American  girl  in  London  is  touring  in  a  car  with 
a  chauffeur  whose  identity  puzzles  her.  An  amusing  mystery. 

THE    STOWAWAY    GIRL.     Illustrated  by  Nesbitt  Benson. 

A  shipwreck,  a  lovely  girl  stowaway,  a  rascally  captain,  a 
fascinating  officer,  and  thrilling  adventures  in  South  Seas. 

THE  CAPTAIN  OF  THE  KANSAS. 

Love  and  the  salt  sea,  »  helpless  ship  whirled  into  the  hands 
of  cannibals,  desperate  fighting  and  a  tender  romance. 

THE     MESSAGE.    Illustrated  by  Joseph  Cumminrs  Chase. 

A  bit  of  parchment  found  in  the  figurehead  of  an  old  ves 
sel  tells  of  a  buried  treasure.  A  thrilling  mystery  develops. 

THE  PILLAR  OF  LIGHT. 

The  pillar  thus  designated  TV»S  a  lighthouse,  and  the  author 
tells  with  exciting  detail  the  terriol*  4Uemma  o/  its  cut  off  in 
habitants. 

THE    WHEEL    O'FORTUNE.     With   illustrations   by  J*JP«S 
Montgomery  Flagg. 

The  story  deals  with  the  finding  of  a  papyrus  containing 
th^  particulars  of  some  of  the  treasures  of  vhe  Queen  of  Sheba. 

A    SON  OF   THE   IMMORTALS.      Illustrated     by    Howard 
Chandler  Christy. 

A  young  American  is  proclaimed  king  of  a  little  Balkan 
Kingdom,  and  a  pretty  Parisian  art  student  is  the  power  behind 

the  throne. 

THE    WINGS    OF  THE  MORNING. 

A  sort  of  Robinson  Crusoe  redivivus  with  modem  settings 
and  a  very  pretty  love  story  added.  The  hero  and  heroine,  are 
the  only  survivors  of  a  wreck,  and  have  many  thrilling  adventures 
on  their  desert  island. 

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THE  NOVELS  OF 

STEWART    EDWARD   WHITE 

THE  RULES  OF  THE  GAME.  Illustrated  by  Lajaren  A.  Hilier 

The  romance  of  the  son  of  "The  Riverman."  The  young  college 
hero  goes  into  the  lumber  camp,  is  antagonized  by  "gran"  and  comes 
into  the  romance  of  his  life. 
ARIZONA  NIGHTS.  Illus.  and  cover  inlay  by  N.  C.  Wyeth. 

A  series  of  spirited  tales  emphasizing  some  phases  of  the  life 
of  the  ranch,  plains  and  desert.    A  masterpiece. 
THE  BLAZED    TRAIL.  With  illustiations  by  Thomas  Fogarty. 

A  wholesome  story  with  gleams  of  humor,  telling  of  a  young 
man  who  blazed  his  way  to  fortune  through  the  heart  of  the  Mich' 
igan  pines. 
THE  CLAIM  JUMPERS.    A  Romance. 

The  tenderfoot  manager  of  a  mine  in  a  lonesome  gulch  of  the 
Black  Hills  has  a  hard  time  of  it,  but  "wins  out"  in  more  ways  than 
one. 
CONJUROR'S     HOUSE.    Illustrated  Theatrical  Edition. 

Dramatized  under   the     title   of  "The    Call  of    the    North." 

"Conjuror's  House  is  a  Hudson  Bay  trading  post  where  the 
head  factor  is  the  absolute  lord.    A  young  fellow  risked  his  life  and 
won  a  bride  on  this  forbidden  land. 
THE  MAGIC  FOREST.    A  Modern  Fairy  Tale.    Illustrated. 

The  sympathetic  way  in  which  the  children  of  the  wild  and 
their  life  is  treated  could  only  belong  to  one  who  is  in  love  with  the 
forest  and  open  air.    Based  on  fact. 
THE  RIVERMAN.    Illus.  by  N.  C.  Wyeth  and  C.  Underwood. 

The  story  of  a  man's  tight  against  a  river  and  of  a  struggle 
between  honesty  and  grit  on  the  one  side,  and  dishonesty  and 
shrewdness  on  the  other. 
THE  SILENT  PLACES.  Illustrations  by  Philip  R.  Goodwin. 

The  wonders  of  the  northern  forests,  the  heights  of  feminine 
devotion,  and  masculine  power,  the  intelligence  of  the  Caucasian 
and  the  instinct  of  the  Indian,  are  all  finely  drawn  in  this  story. 
THE  WESTERNERS. 

A  story  of  the  Black  Hills  that  is  justly  placed  among  the 
best  American  novels.  It  portrays  the  life  of  the  new  West  as  no 
other  book  has  done  in  recent  years. 

THE     MYSTERY.  In  collaboration  with  Samuel  Hopkins  Adams 
With  illustrations  by  Will  Crawford. 

The  disappearance  of  three  successive  crews  from  the  stout 
ship  *•  Laughing  Lass"  in  mid-Pacific,  is  a  mystery  weird  and  inscrut 
able.  In  the  solution,  there  is  a  story  of  the  most  exciting  voyage 
that  man  ever  undertook. 

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THE  SIEGE  OF  THE  SEVEN  SUITORS.    By  Meredith  Nicb- 
olson.     Illustrated  by  C.  Coles  Phillips  and  Reginald  Birch. 

Seven  suitors  vie  with  each  other  for  the  love  of  a  beautift'j 
jirl,  and  she  subjects  them  to  a  test  that  is  fnll  of  mystery,  magic 
and  sheer  amusement. 

THE  MAGNET.    By  Henry  C.  Rowland.    Illustrated  by  Clarence 
F.  Underwood. 

The  story  of  a  remarkable  courtship  involving  three  pretty 
girls  on  a  yacht,  a  poet-lover  in  pursuit,  and  a  mix-up  in  the  names 
of  the  girls. 

THE  TURN  OF  THE  ROAD.  By  Eugenia  Brooks  Frothingham. 
A  beautiful  young  opera  singer  chooses  professional  success 
instead  of  love,  but  comes  to  a  place  in  life  where  the  call  of  the 
heart  is  stronger  than  worldly  success. 

SCOTTIE  AND  HIS  LADY.     By  Margaret  Morse.    Illustrated 
by  Harold  M.  Brett. 

A  young  girl  whose  affections  have  been  blighted  is  presented 
with  a  Scotch  Collie  to  divert  her  mind,  and  the  roving  adventures 
of  her  pet  lead  the  young  mistress  into  another  romance. 

SHEILA  VEDDER.    By  Amelia  E.  Barr.    Frontispiece  by  Harri 
son  Fisher. 

A  very  beautiful  romance  of  the  Shetland  Islands,  with  a 
handsome,  strong  willed  hero  and  a  lovely  girl  of  Gaelic  blood  as 
heroine.  A  sequel  to  "Jan  Vedder's  Wife." 

JOHN  WARD.  PREACHER.    By  Margaret  Deland. 

The  first  big  success  of  this  much  loved  American  novelist. 
It  is  a  powerful  portrayal  of  a  young  clergyman's  attempt  to  win  hi* 
beautiful  wife  to  his  own  narrow  creed. 

THE    TRAIL  OF    NINETY-EIGHT.    By  Robert  W.  Service 
Illustrated  by  Maynard  D-ixon. 

One  of  the  best  stories  of  "Vap-p'xmdia  "  ever  written,  and 
one  of  the  most  accurate  and  picturesque  of  the  stampede  of  gold 
seekers  to  the  Yukon.  The  love  story  embedded  in  the  narrative 
&  strikingly  original, 

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THE     SECOND     WIFE.    By  Thompson  Buchanan.  Illustrated 
by  W.  W.  Fawcett.    Harrison  Fisher  wrapper  printed  in  foui 
Colors  and  gold. 

An  intensely  interesting  story  of  a  marital  complication  in 
a  wealthy  New  York  family  involving  the  happiness  of  a 
beautiful  young  girl. 

TESS  OF  THE  STORM  COUNTRY.    By  Grace  Miller  White. 
Illustrated  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy. 

An  amazingly  vivid  picture  of  low  class  life  in  a  New 
York  college  town,  with  a  heroine  beautiful  and  noble,  who  makes 
1  great  sacrifice  for  love. 

^ROM  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  MISSING.    By  Grace  Miller 
White. 
Frontispiece  and  wrapper  in  colors  by  Penrhyn  Stanlaws. 

Another  story  of  "the  storm  country."  Two  beautiful  chil 
dren  are  kidnapped  from  a  wealthy  home  and  appear  many  years 
after  showing  the  effects  of  a  deep,  malicious  scheme  behind 
their  disappearance. 

THE    LIGHTED    MATCH.     By  Charles  Neville  Buck.    Illus 
trated  by  R.  F.  Schabelitz. 

A  lovely  princess  travels  incognito  through  the  States  and 
falls  in  love  with  an  American  man.  There  are  ties  that  bind  her 
to  someone  in  her  own  home,  and  the  great  plot  revolves  round 
aer  efforts  to  work  her  way  out. 

MAUD    BAXTER.    By  C.    C.    Hotchkiss.    Illustrated  by  Will 
Grefe. 

A  romance  both  daring  and  delightful,  involving  an  Amer 
ican  girl  and  a  young  man  who  had  been  impressed  into  English 
service  during  the  Revolution. 

THE    HIGHWAYMAN.    By   Guy    Rawience.     Illustrated   by 
Will  Grefe. 

A  French  beauty  of  mysterious  antecedents  wins  the  love 
I  of  an  Englishman  of  title.  Deyolopments  of  a  startling  charactei > 
.and  a  clever  untangling  of  affairs  hold  the  reader's  iuterest. 

'THE    PURPLE    STOCKINGS.     By  Edward  Salisbury    Field. 
IHustrated  in  colors;  marginal  illustrations. 

A  young  New  York  business  man,  his  pretty  sweetheart, 
his  sentimental  stenographer,  and  his  fashionable  sister  are  all 
mixed  up  in  a  misunderstanding  that  surpasses  anything  in  the 
way  of  comedy  in  years.  A  story  with  a  laugh  on  every  page. 

Ask  for  compete  free  list  of  G.  &  D.  Popular  Copyrighted.  Fiction 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  526  WEST  26th  ST.,  NEW  YORK 


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